


Vita Nuova

by ThatRegencyGrrrl



Series: Of gods and monsters and the people in between [1]
Category: All New Wolverine, Dark Wolverine (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: AU mash-up of MCU/Comicverse/X-1 movie with character from the Wolverine movie, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Character Development, Daken actually accomplishing his goals, Darcy Has Powers, Dubious Ethics, F/M, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Slow Build, WIP, hell it's Daken everything is dubious, how to bring Daken into the MCU without reducing him to daddy issues, slight ooc Daken, travel buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRegencyGrrrl/pseuds/ThatRegencyGrrrl
Summary: Darcy Lewis keeps getting sucked into the world of superheroes, gods, and monsters. Daken Akihiro wants to accomplish just one of his goals without his life turning into a complete clusterfuck. He has no time for distractions, or friends, or relationships, or anything that might make him feel like all the other humans polluting the planet. Darcy has no patience for assholes, or alien invasions, or life-altering revelations; she just wants to not be living in her parents' house until she's 40 trying to pay off her student loans.Neither of them saw the other coming, or heard the gods' laughter.





	1. Prologue: Death and destruction are only the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This little plot bunny had been fermenting in my brain for some months now. Daken is one of the most complex Marvel characters (when the writers respect him) that has been created. Darcy Lewis is one of the most complex characters fandom has expanded. So they had to meet. And no one else was writing it, so here we are. I am taking liberties with comics canon, and glossing over or not mentioning movies in MCU that I just. No. 
> 
> Again an MCU compliant AU. Will most likely go full MCU AU around the time of Doctor Strange events.
> 
> Some literary and classic movie references. Some ranting against the establishment and government thugs. And coming back from the dead in the last place anyone wants to be.
> 
> Unbeta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.

He never thought he would end up as a character in a Poe story. But was he “The Telltale Heart” or the poor bastard entombed in “The Cask of Amontillado?” Dark, stifling, barely enough air, smell of damp earth, worms, and bile, wait. Coherent thoughts. Fantastic. Even Death could not stop his father’s cursed genes. Perhaps this would mark the only time he was glad to share that bastard’s DNA. Better start the escape before the air ran out. He listened, felt, not too cold, seemed like a shallow grave. Shallow graves for shallow people. He laughed, rusty, coughed, readied himself for the work ahead.

Ten minutes, a broken pine box, and a mound of dirt later, he reached the surface. Night- he breathed in the stars. When did he get so poetic? Maybe being Schroedinger’s Cat did it. He was dead, yet he lived. The cat escaped the box; the question answered. The cat lives. He moved a few paces, stumbled, realized he needed food and drink. Coming back from the dead worked up an appetite.

He made it to a road. A few feet down the road, a sign. A town name. A dry, coughing laugh escaped his lips. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, why did it have to be New Jersey?”

 

Meanwhile in Puente Antiguo, the men in black had returned all of Dr. Foster’s equipment and notes, as promised, plus one iPod and two personal laptops. Darcy cursed herself for wasting three and a half years trying to argue her way out of the six science credits required for her Poli- Sci degree. Why does a Poli-Sci major need two “hard” science classes (or six credit equivalent) to get a bachelor’s degree? Also way to be prejudiced towards the “soft” sciences there, patriarchal academic system. Yeah, the boys club of STEM totally wasn’t compensating for something by claiming their sciences were “hard” and the more intuitive, psychological, “feminine” sciences were “soft.”

Political soapboxing aside, Darcy had other things to worry about. Like how redacted her internship would be. She needed those six credits for her Poli-Sci degree. (Thanks again gen ed requirements that have nothing to do with her major). She did not want to pay for and sit through two boring as fuck science classes for dummies to get a degree that probably wouldn’t help her as much in the current economy.

Not that she would trade her time with Jane for anything. Darcy helped a badass pioneer in astrophysics discover that interstellar travel was possible, Einstein who’s it what’s it bridges were real, and bonus shirtless ripped god. Suck it, patriarchy. So when Agent Biceps handed the NDA to her with a list of approved topics for her internship report, she found herself pleasantly surprised. As long as she made no references to ripped gods or giant metal outer-space fire-breathing robots, and stuck to detailing her daily tasks and explaining what she now understood about Dr. Foster’s work, she would be golden. Over priced piece of paper that no longer ensured a good paying job, ho! 

A few months after his resurrection, Daken Akihiro had acquired a cash job at a construction site about five miles from his grave, if anyone would have called an unmarked, two feet deep, hastily covered pine box a proper burial plot. He used his first three months’ pay for an Interpol proof new identity- Dorian James, father American, mother Japanese but from Madripoor- plus a lovely backstory wherein his mother had been murdered when he turned two; his father, a career Navy man, often left his son behind in the care of his late wife’s relatives. Dual citizenship and daddy issues all tied up with a nice bow. Now Daken had to get enough money together to get out of New Jersey for good.

Darcy had found a job at a physician billing office in Jersey, the armpit of America, about thirty minutes from her parents’ house in Levittown. Oh yes, Darcy was living the recent college grad life to the stereotypical fullest. Still in her parents’ house, entry level, low paying job not in her field of study, and debt. Hers was more reckless credit card spending than student loans. She worked her ass off to make Dean’s List and still came out of college in debt. Stupid college making stupid deals for kickbacks from the card companies, targeting stupid freshmen. 

Luckily her severely redacted internship still landed Darcy a B.A. in poli-sci; however, it would not help land her any preferential considerations for careers in her field of study. Which, hello, massive experience with government agencies, foreign relations (Thor and his RenFair friends totally counted), plus she helped peaceably evacuate a city being destroyed by a giant, fire-breathing deathbot. Come on, that shit was resume gold (and most likely unbelievable because the Suits classified those events so tight you could put a piece of coal in the files and it’d come out a diamond in seconds). So she eked out a paycheck to paycheck life to pay off her debts and get paid vacations. (Yay adulting!) But hey, this was only a resting point before she shot forward into the life she planned. 

And the gods laughed.


	2. Atlantic City is where it's at

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken has settled into his new life, but still some habits are hard to break. Especially when they pay cash. Darcy has settled into her paycheck and living with her parents. And someone discovers their "sibling" isn't dead. 
> 
> Takes place after Thor and covers events of X-1. I placed that as July 2011 to bring that 'verse into the MCU.

Daken, or Ian, as the guys at work called him, had taken a long weekend to “have some fun” in Atlantic City. He never met the guys for beer after work and didn’t reveal any personal details. It’s not like he had life experiences in common with them. They were glad he would cut loose this weekend, maybe even get some pussy if he were lucky. Ah, the rustic charm of the working man. The foreman, Eric, always watched Daken as though he knew his secrets. Maybe he didn’t trust a tattooed, mohawked grifter happy with a one bedroom apartment in a crappy town in Jersey. Whatever, Daken had lived in worse, and infinitely superior. This superior living was the real reason for his Atlantic City excursion; he found a much better paying side gig.

Not wanting to let his skills slip, Daken had sent out whisperings of a new enforcer/hitman in town. A former Navy brat who’s pot bust at seventeen dashed his father’s hopes of a military dynasty. This man had skills and had used them in Madripoor before his aunt had fallen ill. Now alone in the world, he retreated to the States to find work, too many memories in Madripoor. The sob story had worked and Dorian James was offered fifty thousand to make an uncooperative, old boss disappear this weekend. He completed the job before midnight on Friday. Being that he paid for the room through Sunday, he decided to stay and enjoy himself in other ways.

He strolled the boardwalk Saturday night looking for an easy lay. He had hired a prostitute Friday, but that was more for her services as an alibi than anything else. Looked like he owed the hotel some money for the coffee table they broke while “fucking.” She had definitely done some stellar alibi work before. So now here he was, surrounded by the sticky kids, the Jersey Shore cast-offs, the smell of- What. The. Fuck. He snarled. That couldn’t have been right. She had been killed in the fire. All the other pods were melted, no survivors. And there she was, standing with two other prostitutes, selling her wares. And suddenly looking very aware and scared. Good.

 

Darcy’s co-workers had tried to get her to go with them for a “Girl’s Weekend” in Atlantic City. And there was something really wrong with middle-aged women calling it a “Girl’s Weekend.” Darcy scolded herself for such ageist thoughts; who needed to be reminded of their youth more than old people? They put up with some shit in their lives, they deserved some fun. After all, that would be her one day. Anyway she couldn’t go because she had a Skype chat scheduled with Jane. So Darcy would be having her own version of “Girl’s Weekend” anyway. 

Call her crazy, but Darcy learned a hella lot from Jane. Granted she didn’t understand the scientific language, but she totally got the concepts behind all the technical speak. And having to speak non-scientist helped Jane learn how to explain her work to the people who write the checks. Check writers wanted to know how this science stuff worked without being talked down to or confused even more. Plus Jane seemed starved for intelligent, non-Suit, female friendship. After all, they had met a god and battled an evil robot together. That shit created unbreakable bonds.

Their Skype chat consisted of Darcy complaining about the monotony of her job and Jane venting about not being any closer to recreating the bridge. And when Darcy asked what Erik thought, Jane went off on an unintelligible rant about secret government agencies and the rampant sexism and patriarchy.

“Okay not that I don’t enjoy a good feminist rant like the rest of teh internets, but Jane, you’re not making any sense.”

“That organization we’re not supposed to mention recruited Erik for some secret project that I guarantee has something to do with my research, my discoveries, and whatever info they copied when they stole my equipment and notes.” Jane huffed.

“Fuck those assholes. They don’t have your brain, so they’ll fail.”

“Erik was my mentor. They’ll get whatever they’re after. It doesn’t seem like him to be so easily persuaded into helping them.” Jane trailed off.

“Maybe there’s a foul villain whispering in his ear, like Iago.”

“Darcy.”

“What? The man is how close to retirement and hasn’t gotten a Nobel Prize for science yet. The ego can always be persuaded to overlook morals.” There were certain traits Darcy was more willing to admit Erik had that Jane didn’t want to. “I don’t think he’d betray you or your work. Maybe the stooges have something else that your research may overlap. And they asked Erik because you’d probably tell them to fuck off.” 

“Damn right I would.” Jane continued, a little dejected, “The energy readings on our end are almost non-existent, and the data shows they don’t connect to anything anymore.”

“You think the bridge is broken on his end?” Darcy knew not to mention Thor by name. Jane got simultaneously pissed off and choked up. Once you’re wooed by a god, all other men pale in comparison.

“Well I have no way of knowing that do I?” Jane snapped.

“Sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s okay, Darcy” Jane sighed. “I mean, I don’t know why I’m so irrational about him. We only knew each other for four days, and don’t you dare say ‘it only takes one.’ Please don’t platitude me.”

“Hey, you’re verbing your nouns. Looks like I had a lasting effect on you.” Darcy beamed.

“I hope I rubbed off on you too.”

“Absolutely, just not enough to change majors. Like it would have helped anyway.”

“I’m glad you were able to finish your degree. And, oh shit.” Jane’s attention was diverted by a beeping noise in the background. “Got to go, Mr. Sparky is beeping.” With that, Jane ended their connection.

Darcy missed a weekend of middle-aged women debauchery for a thirty minute Skype chat that left her feeling more depressed about her life choices. Way to win at adulting, Darcy.

 

Daken indicated to her that he wanted to speak off to the side. Surprisingly she obliged him and they walked to an alley between stores.

“Relax, I’m not here for a date…” He paused, then asked “do you have a name?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms.

“I’m also not here to kill you or take you to another facility.”

“You were there. The night I burned it to the ground. You and another man. I saw him kill you.”

Her statement took Daken by surprise. How to reply without giving too much away? Finally, he remarked, “Healing factors can be quite useful, can’t they?”

Laura’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as the reality of what he said hit her. “I was told that the Y chromosome had been too damaged…” Had Dr. Kinney lied to her?

“I’m not a clone; unfortunately I was made the old-fashioned way.”

“That man was…”

“Yes, it was Logan.” He said with disgust. “The man responsible for both our existences.”

“I thought he would be taller.” She replied earnestly.

Daken threw his head back and laughed. Oh this could be fun. But first he needed her name, he needed to gain some trust from her.

“My name was Daken Akihiro; I go by Dorian James now. Since I did die. Sort of a fresh start to do better this time. What is your name?”

“Laura.”

“Well, Laura, would you like to come with me?”

“Why?” She uncrossed her arms. Good, she started to trust him.

“Because you can’t be more than fifteen, and you were not meant for this life.”

“And what life am I meant for?” She did not want to trust this man. He could be like the men at the facility. 

“If you’ll come with me, you can discover that for yourself.” Daken offered.

“I think that you are not being honest with me about your motives.”

“Not entirely, but I promise I am not here to harm you.” He turned and began to walk out of the alley.

“Fine, I will go with you. Know that if you cross me, I will slice your skin off.” She threatened as she caught up to him.

A smile stretched across Daken’s face, “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

 

A month passed, and Laura had settled in at Daken’s modest apartment. She slept on the sofa, refusing his offer of using his bed. She liked the idea of being able to defend the home or run from it should she choose. They had retrieved her belongings, threatened her pimp, and left Atlantic City the Sunday after they first met. Daken had had to restrain her from killing the pimp. A floodgate of anger had opened, and Laura couldn’t shut it off by herself.

In the interim Daken had taken Laura shopping, taught her basic cooking skills, tested her language skills, and introduced her to the concept of mindful meditation. It wouldn’t do for her to succumb to her more feral instincts. He also worked to overcome her deficiency in understanding sarcasm. A teenager who didn’t know how to properly sass people was unacceptable to Daken. In return she didn’t ask where he disappeared to on the weekends and some weeknights. If he was trained like her, she could guess what his side jobs entailed. 

He had been late getting back from a job one Saturday night. Apparently there had been an incident on Liberty Island which authorities had quarantined. While she waited for him to return, she finally allowed herself to sort through the “go bag” Dr. Kinney had prepared for them. I.D.’s, passports, cash, school transcripts, and a business card to a private school. Dr. Kinney intended to send her to a boarding school? She hadn’t thought about school, but isn’t that what normal teenagers did? They went to school. She decided to broach the subject with Daken at breakfast tomorrow.

The TV was on low in the living room while Daken sat at the dining table reading the Journal and drinking tea. Laura got a bowl of cereal for herself and joined him.

“I want to go to a high school,” Laura announced.

“Said no teenager ever,” Daken didn’t even look up from his paper.

“Is that sarcasm, again?” 

Daken blinked in response. Had she just trolled him? Her expression said that she had. Consider him impressed with her learning capabilities. He looked up from his paper. “Are you sure that’s what you want? To be surrounded by troglodytic, hormonally plagued teenagers being babysat by underpaid and overworked people who once believed they could make a difference in a child’s life?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” He put down the paper. “I guess I’ll have to register as your guardian, but first I’ll need to”

“I already know where I want to go and Dr. Kinney had documents made for me. Including school transcripts.”

“The backpack your pimp held hostage.” Daken remembered. That had been fun, the two of them working together, raining terror down on that scum Zebra Daddy. Well, up until Laura lost control of herself.

“Yes. Dr. Kinney had a business card for a private school...” She reached into her pocket to retrieve the card.

“Hold that thought.” Daken turned up the volume on the TV. The reporter’s voice traveled into the dining area.

“That’s right, Jim. Authorities have ruled that a chemical reaction between the pyrotechnics during last night’s event at Liberty Island caused a temporary hallucinogenic reaction in the party goers. Furthermore an electromagnetic overcharge wiped out all electronic devices so no footage is available to substantiate or discredit those claims. Some party goers reported a white haired woman surrounded by lightning-” Daken turned off the television.

“A billionaire playboy is allowed to fly around like a tin soldier, but mutants…”

“What are you talking about, Ian?” Laura preferred to call Daken by his alias’ nickname. She did not wish for harm to come to him should any of his old enemies discover he still lived.

“The less you know, the better. Plausible deniability. So, what is this school Dr. Kinney wanted you to go to?”

“Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.” Laura read from the card as Daken spat out his tea. “Is something wrong with your tea?” She asked innocently.

“No, it’s, have you learned sarcasm? Maybe you are ready for high school.”

“Charles Xavier.” She read. “I suspect he owns the school.”

“Yes, and that event on Liberty Island, some of the teachers were probably involved. Whenever there’s a skirmish involving mutants, it gets covered up. Our existence may cause mass hysteria, or at least that’s what SHIELD believes.” He scoffed.

“What is SHIELD?”

“Plausible deniability, Laura. It is your lifeline. Keep it, live it, love it.” Daken got up from the table to get more tea.

“But what-”

“Plausible deniability. Why don’t you call the school tomorrow? Make the necessary arrangements. I’ll need to get you some luggage though.”

“Why?” Laura had a difficult time keeping up with Daken’s thinking sometimes. 

“You’re not going to carry your clothes in trash bags, are you?” He sat down with a fresh cup of tea.

“You wish for me to leave?” She did not think she had been a burden or a rude guest.

“I’ll get you a burner phone too.” He continued, ignoring her question.

“You did not answer my question.” Laura grew increasingly frustrated with Daken’s aversion to answering simple questions.

“You want to go to school. Your ovum donor and gestator, fine, mother, went to enough trouble to possibly contact Xavier. Wait, so they know about Weapon X? I wonder why they didn’t show up.” He sounded more intrigued than angry.

“Dr. Kinney would not have given away the Facility’s location.”

“Fair enough. To answer your earlier question, I want you to make your own decisions. As much fun as I’d think it would be for us to work together, you should be free to make that decision on your own.” He didn’t add that he had never been given the same choice when he was her age. And that was a most unwelcome thought.

“I do not want to be a professional killer. Beyond that, I do not know what I want to be. School is supposed to help me in determining that.” At least Laura hoped it would.

“Make the arrangements. I’ll get you the luggage and phone. So I can get your report cards.” He smirked. He hoped some semblance of normalcy would further help her gain control over her emotions. Although she hadn’t caused him any further problems in the past month, the wrong trigger was all it would take for her to snap and cause real damage. Maybe the school had a useful psychologist that could help her. Wait, was he actually caring about someone? She really did need to leave.

A week later and Laura had moved to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. As promised Daken had given her a burner phone to contact him. He would also send her monthly care packages which included a refill card for the phone. When asked about it, she told the truth, that a man named Dorian James had found her working the streets and had set her on the path she walked now. Only Professor Xavier knew the whole truth. After all he had seen Logan’s mind before she arrived, and he decided it would be best to keep Dorian’s secret.


	3. New York, New York it's a, holy shit! a giant space whale!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This covers events of the first Avengers movie and a few months after as well as some explanations as to why mutants seem to be missing from the general knowledge of characters in the MCU. Oh, and bonus points to whomever figures out who Eric really is. 
> 
> (also forgot to mention Darcy has a potty mouth/mind, as does the author).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments. Very much appreciated.
> 
> Timeline: Laura arrived at Xavier's in August 2011. Logan was off on his "Find out what the hell happened to me" tour.
> 
> Also, fic is still unbeta'd.
> 
> (had to make some last minute, minor edits. uploaded wrong version of this chapter)

Laura had nearly completed her first year at Xavier’s School. Daken had invited her to stay with him for the summer, but what was a one bedroom, New Jersey apartment to a mansion in posh West Chester County? Despite having some trouble at the beginning of the year, Laura had made two friends, Anna and John. She had also met Logan after Christmas. Apparently he had been part of the Liberty Island “psychotropic pyrotechnics” cover-up last July. So Daddy Dearest joined a secret paramilitary mutant organization that considered itself a superhero team, why was he not surprised?

An unexpected development transpired from Daken’s liberation of Laura; the foreman, Eric, had opened up to the mohawked man about his own experiences as a single father. Under other circumstances Daken would have ignored the chatter. However, Eric radiated power in a way that unnerved Daken; he instinctively knew that Eric was not a man to be fucked with.

On an unseasonably cold day in May, Eric regaled Daken with yet another tale of his son’s, Alexander’s, triumph in Krav Maga. In addition to being a very competent foreman, Eric was also a military history aficionado, naming his son after Alexander the Great. In return Daken extolled Laura’s accomplishments in languages. Her French in particular had vastly improved. 

“She should study ancient Greek or Latin, to discover how smart she really is,” Eric scoffed.

“I think she’d rather travel than become a doctor or a lawyer. But who really knows with teenagers,” Daken added.

“They sure as hell don’t.”

“Tell me about it.” He had gotten a progress report on Laura’s “acclimation to the social constructs” of the school. She lost her temper after coming across a bullying incident. Luckily, everyone lived, and she hadn’t been expelled. Small mercies.

“Don’t worry too much,” Eric ended, clapping Daken on the back as he got up to go check on the rest of his crew.

Daken, or rather, Dorian James, was no longer a day worker. Now gainfully employed by Union Allied, he received a bi-weekly paycheck and benefits like every other working class schlub. Building paper trails for aliases was a necessary and tedious evil. The other benefit, despite how cliched, was certain “contacts” he made from working construction. Freelance enforcing work paid well and Daken had a contract in NYC this weekend. His employer heard whisperings of a new player in town and Daken was hired to squeeze some info from an uncooperative source without it being traced. Two things Daken excelled at: covering his tracks and torture. Oh, and killing. Three things then. Right, four things, seduction. Nothing like ego stroking to get him sidetracked.

Meanwhile in good old Levittown, Darcy had gone for her yearly exam. If her doctor wasn’t running behind schedule as usual, she had planned to go to NYC afterwards as a reward for doing the responsible woman thing. Grab some lunch, do a little shopping, then back on the transit to get home in time for supper. Definitely driving to the Princeton Junction station; the Trenton station was too sketchy. All planned out and ready to go. Too bad her doctor was running an hour behind. Suck an elf!

After the lady part check-up that took two hours too long, thanks drug reps taking up her time with the doctor, Darcy decided to stop by a state store and then pick up something from the grocery store. She avoided the pre-made sushi and opted for potato wedges and chicken tenders, food of the “no time to make dinner” set. Darcy had hoped for some People of Wal-mart action, but instead was treated to an unexpected shock courtesy of the tabloid World Wide News.

“Fuck a duck!” Darcy screeched as she added the rag to her food purchase. The cashier gave her a condescending look which Darcy countered with her “I tasered a god, don’t fuck with me” glare.

Purchases made and secured in her car, Darcy pulled out the magazine. A poor resolution image of a random cosplayer complete with a bowing flash mob took up the whole front page. Dude had put some serious skill into looking like the Norse god of mischief. The article alleged that this crazy cosplayer dude had the crowd under mind control until Iron Man and Captain America (wait, wasn’t he dead or something?) had shown up to kick his ass. Time to call Jane.

“Damn it, Jane. You need to answer your phone. It’s Darcy, well, duh. Look, call me back pronto. Seriously. Some serious shit is going down. Do a dark web search of crazy cosplayer in Stuttgart. Totally looks like a Loki. And you and I know how real that shit is. So just call. Me. Back. Please.” Darcy ended the call. She really hated voicemail.

Darcy drove home, changed into her vegging out clothes, turned on a soap, and ate her lunch. She had just gotten some ice cream out of the freezer, when the news broke into the soap. Apparently aliens were raining destruction and death in New York City; a big green dude, Iron Man, and holy shit, THOR! After nearly dropping her phone and breaking it, Darcy called Jane again. And again got her voicemail.

“Seriously Jane, answer your damn phone. Or turn on a TV. Aliens are invading New York and WHOA! I’m pretty sure that Thor is on top of the Empire State building judging by the size of that lightning. And again, it’s THOR! And aliens! Thank the gods I took off today. So, like, CALL. ME!" She threw her phone on the sofa. “Why can’t mad scientists answer their phones during an apocalypse?”

Darcy wasn’t the only person having a freak out. Laura had called Daken at work, leaving several frantic messages on his cell phone. He returned her calls once he had gotten back to his apartment, cell towers near the city were out of commission. He couldn’t decide if he should be annoyed or touched by her concern. Did she forget about their healing factors in her panic? Emotional ambiguity aside, it looked like Daken’s weekend job in the city would be postponed. 

The only positive from this alien destruction of New York would be the falling prices of real estate. He could use his cash to invest in a prime location that Union Allied helped rebuild. New York would be a much more convenient base of operations, even if he might run into an old, burned bridge. Still, the city held the creature comforts Daken had grown to cherish: high fashion, exquisite cuisine, and a varied selection of fuckable people. Plus the global information networks for the criminal underworld. One city’s disaster was Daken’s golden opportunity.

 

Two weeks after the attack, Jane turned up unannounced on Darcy’s doorstep. Okay technically Darcy’s parents’ doorstep, but whatevs. Once safely inside, Jane unloaded on Darcy, preemptively striking down Darcy’s planned tirade about certain people not answering their phone or returning calls.

“And to top it off I find out that Erik had been mind controlled, actually mind controlled, by Loki. Erik is not doing well, and then they ushered Thor off the planet before I even knew he was on Earth!” Jane finished.

“That’s why you should check your voicemails or turn on a TV, Jane.”

“My salary does not do international roaming rates.”

“International roaming rates suck for everyone,” Darcy added. “So, tequila night?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you accept my job offer.” Way to drop a bombshell there, Jane.

“I have a job.” Darcy stated.

“That makes you miserable.” Jane countered.

“Hey, my co-workers are awesome, except for trying to set me up with their living in their basement sons, yes, pot kettle, I know. But…” Darcy trailed off at the look Jane gave her. “So when could I start and what kind of benefits do I get? Plus, there better be hazard pay. I mean, look at your track record.”

“Our track record.” Jane corrected.

“Erik’s? The really weird shit didn’t happen until after he arrived.”

“It’s in London. Wait, do you have a passport?”

“Duh. Remember how I told you about deciding between the internship and just saying ‘fuck it’ and doing the European hostel hopping thingie?” Darcy paused. “Jane, I’d need a work visa, not a passport. Do you even know what paperwork I’ll need to fill out?”

“You need both. The university will handle the work visa. Wait, don’t you want to know about salary, benefits, living arrangements?”

“I survived being a broke ass college student, I can survive being a broke ass, what am I?” Darcy asked.

“Assistant. You’ll be in charge of my schedule, in addition to doing the same stuff you did in New Mexico. But you get paid this time.” Jane answered.

“Not everything I did in New Mexico. I don’t think I have it in me to save London from an alien attack. A small desert town is one thing, Jane. I mean, our lives, right? What the actual fuck are they?”

“We should make t-shirts,” Jane joked.

“Totally, ‘WTF BAMFs’, that’s us.” Darcy agreed. “So August, London, Science!, and protecting your work from government stooges. I’m in.”

“Now it’s tequila time.” Jane produced a bottle of Jose Gold.

 

While Darcy and Jane had been sciencing it up in London, Daken had put out feelers for the scattered remnants of the Weapon X program. If they could create a clone, then they could restore his abilities to their full capacity. Ever since he resurrected after his father drowned him in a muddy puddle of the chemical run off from the facility’s destruction, Daken’s pheromone ability and healing factor hadn’t worked as they ought. His inquiries were slow to bear fruit and now his day job didn’t afford him as much time as he needed.

Patience is a virtue, but Daken didn’t feel like being virtuous. Oddly it was Laura who set him on a speedier path. She had decided to spend her Christmas break with him after discovering he had never celebrated the holiday. She was impressed by his penthouse, compared to the tiny one bedroom New Jersey apartment he used to have. He even had room for a grand piano, which he claimed was only there for the aesthetics. Upon arriving early that morning, Laura decided they needed to decorate for Christmas; Daken relented rather reluctantly. That evening while they decorated the tree Laura insisted upon purchasing, their talk turned to the alien attack that past May.

“What I don’t understand,” Laura mused, “is why this SHIELD organization, who has kept mutants protected-”

“Hidden away” Daken interrupted.

“Anyway, why would these same people then choose to send a nuclear weapon into a civilian population of over eight million? If they are truly about protecting people, why mass murder them?”

“Because a loss of eight million is insignificant to seven billion.”

“I knew you would say that.” Laura stated, disappointed. “But it as though SHIELD has a Mr. Hyde to its Dr. Jekyll.” She had placed three rather shiny ornaments in a cluster together.

“Laura, you really don’t have an eye for design.” Daken went about correcting her work. “So basically you’re saying that I could be in charge of SHIELD.”

“That is a very large leap of logic, but it is a decision you said you would have made, so yes.”

“I never said I would make the same decision, but I can understand their reasoning, however flawed.” Daken took a step back to view their progress on the tree.

“Do you think that now that SHIELD is out in the open, mutants will be exposed too?” Laura worried.

“Eventually, not every secret stays in the shadows forever.” Daken answered as he rearranged a few more ornaments on the tree. 

As Laura opened the last boxes of baubles, Daken allowed his mind to wander. Maybe the former Weapon X researchers had found someplace to hide in SHIELD. And he knew even from a glimpse on the news footage, that SHIELD had a former Red Room operative working for them. Could it be possible that others had infiltrated the organization before her, thereby allowing her defection to go seamlessly? Well, now Daken had to start his search all over. But at least he had a better idea of what and who to look for.

While Laura stayed with Daken over her Christmas break, her friend, Anna, stayed at the school. She filled Logan in on the sparse details she had from Laura about the mysterious Dorian James. Logan had his suspicions as to the man’s true identity. He decided to warn an old friend in case his son turned up in her neck of the woods. Other than that, he told no one else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, in case you didn't figure it out, Eric is Ares. During one run of the comics post Dark Avengers, he was living in New Jersey, working construction, and raising his son.
> 
> Also, the "burned bridge" is totally a reference to Johnny Storm. Not in the tags yet as I'm still working out how to meld the FF into this 'verse.


	4. Newton's First Law as applied to "Meet Cutes"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right at the end of Thor: Dark World. Our two leads finally meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments. The next few chapters is where Daken gets a little OOC from the comics, because crazy thought: what if accomplishing your goals makes you happy, or at least content? Not being thwarted at every turn might change how you interact with the world. Plus Darcy just has that effect on people; it's a gift. 
> 
> Also unbeta'd.

In between construction work, enforcer jobs, and tracking down a defunct and secret organization, Daken had little time for recreation. This made him slightly more irritable than usual. Finally in August, he received a concrete lead. A rumor of a “Facility of Miracles” somewhere in eastern Europe. He would need to shake down some old contacts to find where the trail started. 

Meanwhile it was time to leave Union Allied behind and start working his way up in Madripoor. While the newly acquired penthouse in New York was all he could ask for and more, he needed Madripoor. He could start to make a name for himself, earning more, one day consolidating his power. And the info he needed would be easier to come by there. He would know where this “Facility of Miracles” was before Christmas. 

Upon his arrival in Madripoor some months ago, Daken had contacted a vigliante friend of his father’s. Reluctant to help him at first, she begrudgingly let him into the fold when he tracked down stolen children before they could be sold. There was a complex human trafficking ring she had been trying to shut down for over two years. She still didn’t trust him. Added to that was his fleeting idea to go by the name of “Patch.” She hadn’t liked that notion at all; she threatened to cut off certain parts of his anatomy. Going by her general disdain for him (and her not mentioning Logan by name), Daken’s paranoia led him to believe Logan knew he still lived and had warned her about him. All the more reason to find and undergo this “miraculous” treatment. He couldn't afford any dissent if he hoped to seize control over Madripoor's underworld.

Unfortunately the attack in London in November had derailed his plan for finding this facility. However the delay did mean that he would be able to track and hopefully shut down a human trafficking ring run out of Madripoor with merchandise being shipped through Europe. But first, he had to track down the Broker, the seller of the children, the person Daken would take his time killing once he liberated the “cargo” that was on its way to Madripoor.

 

A week after the London attacks, and Darcy still freaked out. What the fuck even was her life? Was she a magnet for weird shit? Outer space elves. Freaking ugly as fuck, evil elves from another planet, realm, what the fuck ever. Darcy was done. Just done. Although she did take pride in the fact that she got those wormhole closing do-hickeys up and running while being attacked by elves that couldn’t be bothered to at least look like Legolas or his inbred cousin. No matter what ‘verse it was, apparently Evil was always ugly as fuck. 

And surprise, surprise the men in black showed up after her little band of “untrained in fighting aliens” (training don’t mean shit, suits, not when you were nowhere to be seen when all that went down) had already saved the day. Sure there was a big mess to clean up, but that’s what the suits are for, right? To top it off, her bio-mom showed up out of nowhere to drop a major bombshell and now Darcy had entered full on freak out mode. She needed to get away. Jane and Erik had Ian looking after them and Jane, bless her, could tell how desperately Darcy needed a vacay. 

So one Amex black card from bio-mom later, and the return of Thor to London, Darcy would be doing the cliched white, suburban college girl hostel and train tour of Europe before heading home for Christmas. A month on “the continent” as they say in England. First stop would be Normandy, then Paris, next Brussels, and then Amsterdam, after that a few German cities, until finally ending her tour in Vienna the week before Christmas. Ah, magic time. The men in black also helped her get the necessary paperwork through, which, you know, was nice of them, for all of her “courageous actions in the face of an imminent extraterrestrial threat.” In essence they rewarded her for doing their jobs for them. Take that all of you “what can you do with a liberal arts degree” naysayers. Apparently you can battle aliens.

Anyway she had visited Normandy on her way to Paris, butchered the french language (bewildering many, Darcy had taken German in school- hey hot water polo players signed up for that class), discovered that she didn’t really like some of the few fellow hostel travelers in France, and decided Paris really, really wasn’t for her. The city was beautiful. The cafes were exquisite, but everything was overpriced and the Parisians didn’t disappoint when it came to their much maligned reputation. She tried, she really tried to love Paris; she loved “Moulin Rouge” after all. Paris just happened to not be her kind of city. Maybe Brussels would be more her speed.

 

Daken had followed the Broker to Brussels. That man would be given the information on the cargo that was to be moved through Amsterdam and then onwards to Madripoor. Under the guise of Kage, again a random thought Laura had had while he chose an alias, Daken slowly consolidated power and usurped the businesses of the more unsavory and idiotic elements of the criminal families in Madripoor. He had thought of using the Japanese for “demon” as that was the other name he was called as child, but Laura wisely observed that people most fear the unknown, the thoughts or beings that lurk in the shadows. 

His pheromone abilities still had not returned to full strength; in fact they sometimes didn’t work at all. His healing factor had improved somewhat, a little slower than before his death, but it did kick in all the time. He had to retrain himself as a fighter. He never realized how much he had come to depend upon his pheromones to win fights. Not that he was helpless now or ever, but he knew he was not indolent.

He had also heard more rumors surrounding this “Facility of Miracles.” Apparently they had recovered an alien artifact from the battle of New York a year and a half ago. They were using it to experiment on volunteers, some mutants, others not. After dealing with this broker and finding and liberating the cargo, Daken would make his way to Amsterdam to meet an informant on the facility. Say what you would about him, but Daken could multitask like a motherfucker. In the meantime, he may as well have some fun in the evenings.

Darcy had been right about Brussels. While definitely not at the height of the backpacking season, there were enough fellow lodgers at the hostel to be interesting. A former Russian model had befriended her and decided that she and Darcy had to go to the clubs together. So there was Darcy, dressed in her leggings and an oversized, button down shirt in an upscale nightclub watching some mohawked dude hit on a defensively straight businessman. Mohawk guy was definitely on the verge of getting his ass handed to him, so she did the only thing one does in these situations; popped loose a few buttons, mussed up her hair, made sure the girls were doing their thing, and went over to intervene.

“There you are, Gary,” Darcy slung her arm around Mohawk dude, making sure her cleavage was in full view of pissed off closet case businessman. “Was he bothering you? I am so sorry, he hits on anything when he gets too drunk. Wait, you do speak English right? Come on, Gary, you’re cut off.” She grabbed Mohawk dude’s hand and led him away. To her surprise he followed her without a fuss. Maybe he wasn’t that gay.

“Do I really look like a ‘Gary’ to you?” He asked her, slightly offended. Oh and wasn’t that voice silky and dangerous with just a hint of sardonic intent?

“It was the first name that popped into my head that could sound super gay when I said it. You’re welcome by the way.” She let go of his hand. “That dude was ready to kick your ass five ways to Sunday.”

Daken smirked. “Oh, I don’t think he could.”

“You’re probably right,” Darcy agreed after sizing Mohawk guy up. “But judging by the fact that you rolled with me, I’m guessing you don’t like drawing that kind of attention.”

“Not particularly.” He sighed.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but why hit on a clearly straight guy?” 

“Because it’s fun.”

“You have a strange idea of what’s fun, Gary.” Darcy said.

“Dorian.”

“What?”

“That’s my name, what’s yours?” Daken asked, finally remembering some semblance of manners.

“You have got to be shitting me.” Darcy replied.

“That’s a rather long-”

“Your name is Dorian. And you’re hitting on straight guys. Closet case straight guys, but still. That is epic.” Darcy’s smile was all teeth. “Darcy, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dorian. We could get into and out of so much trouble together.” She offered her hand to him only to withdraw it. “Except…”

“Except?”

“Fashion tip? Lose the mohawk. It’s so late 70’s punk scene or evil Bond villain henchmen. Not one of the cool ones that end up surviving when the head villain gets killed by Bond, but-”

“Do you always have this much verbal diarrhea?”

“Aww, you’re a softie, aren’t you? With the Bridget Jones quotes and everything. And didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking? Now where was I?”

“Bond villain henchmen. But not the cool ones, if any of them could even be considered cool.” Daken surprised himself by encouraging the young woman’s ramblings.

“Anyway, one of the guys with guns that Bond kills outright.” Darcy finished.

“Maybe it’s been awhile since I’ve watched a Bond movie, but since when did James Bond kill henchmen outright? I thought they died from their own stupidity.” 

“You’ve totally read the tips for evil overlords website!”

“That’s a thing that exists?” Despite his age, the world never ceased to amuse Daken. 

“It’s a parody, well sort of, more like a humor site, but it uses the common mistakes made by book, TV, and movie villains and compiles a list of ‘What not to do when I’m an Evil Overlord’ type thing. It’s an epic must read.” Darcy said.

“I always thought the ‘hero’s journey’ stories were rigged. The Hero only triumphs by the incompetence of their rival, not necessarily by the virtuousness of their own merits.” Daken took a sip of his drink.

“That’s what I just said.” 

“Did you?” Daken’s eyebrow arched.

“Oh my god, you’re an asshole, aren’t you?” Darcy playfully smacked his chest. And hello, muscles. So Mohawk guy, Dorian, was cut under that black turtleneck and jeans.

“A fact which is not deterring you.” Daken had noticed the way her pupils had dilated after her playful slap. 

“I am undeterrable. Once you’ve tasered a god and saved London from evil outer-space elves, run of the mill assholes in clubs are so two thousand and eight.” Darcy slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” Daken asked, taking another sip of his drink. Maybe this woman wasn’t so amusing after all. More like she had fallen off the crazy train.

“Not enough to forget my name or the shit storm my life has become. Sorry, don’t mean to be a buzzkill.” 

“You said you tasered a god.” Daken said.

Darcy sighed. “Technically I’m really not supposed to talk about that. Government NDA’s and all. Forget I said anything.” Darcy looked around the club and noticed her new best friend was leaving with the closet case businessman. “Well fuck a duck.”

Daken choked on his drink. “What?”

“My new Russian bestie from the hostel just totally left with the closet case I rescued you from.”

“She’s going to be disappointed.” Daken drawled.

“That’s what you get when you ditch the person you dragged out to this, this place against their better judgment.”

“I’m sorry your evening isn’t going to your liking.” 

“Well I met you, so it’s not all bad. Most intelligent conversation I’ve had in months that doesn’t involve astrophysics. So kudos to you.” Darcy gave him two thumbs up. 

“I feel so honored.” 

“You are an incredibly droll person. Which you probably already know. So anyway, time to settle my tab and get the hell out of here. It’s been, well, it’s been real, Dorian.” She offered her hand.

Daken shook her hand. Strong pulse, warm, good grip. She was no shrinking violet. “Likewise.”

“You’ve forgotten my name already, haven’t you?” Darcy accused as she dropped his hand. “And after I went through the trouble of flashing the girls to save you from a public ass beating.”

“I appreciate their sacrifice, Darcy, but I can handle myself in a fight.”

“Sure you can.” She walked towards the bar, turned, and hollered back to him, “Lose the mohawk, asshole. It’ll up your game.” She then continued on to the bar.

Damn it all to hell. As Daken watched Darcy pay her tab, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to escort her back to her hostel. Well, it was a rare occurrence for anyone to surprise him. People were so predictable and boring. Darcy was anything but. He didn’t have time for this sort of distraction; he had business to attend to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vigilante is Tyger Tiger.
> 
> Also "kage" is the Japanese word for shadow.


	5. Twice is a coincidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amsterdam. Another chance encounter. Definitely not "Spies Like Us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will not be moving as quickly through the MCU timeline like the first 3. The next several chapters take place during early-mid December. So probably right before the events of Iron Man 3. (I placed that as Christmas 2013, a month after Thor: Dark World).
> 
> As always, unbeta'd.

Everything had gone smoothly in Amsterdam. The cargo had been liberated by Interpol, the Broker thoroughly dead and unidentifiable should any remains be found, and his purchaser also apprehended by Interpol. Working from the shadows suited Daken perfectly. Word of Kage’s displeasure (and swift justice) would make its way back to Madripoor. Soon that name would be more feared than any name before it. Still, Daken’s ascent up the underworld ladder moved too slowly for his liking. If he could get his damn pheromones working again, all would be right with the world. It was that quest which had him waiting for an informant in a quaint cafe, reading “Eat, Pray, Love” when she walked in. He had not expected to see her ever again.

Darcy liked Amsterdam more than she thought she would, based solely on the way her college peers waxed poetic about all the hash and prostitutes. She had expected Amsterdam to be more Sin City or Vegas but with Old World buildings. Maybe she hadn’t found those areas, because the city she found was absolutely charming. The canals were gorgeous, buildings had been decorated for Christmas, and there were less tourists. And a large part of the population spoke English, which helped Darcy immensely.

Also once the locals realized she wasn’t the typical partying American college student, they grew more amenable to recommending museums, restaurants, and cafes. Which was how she found herself entering a more upscale cafe on a particularly windy day only to find Mohawk guy, Dorian, sipping tea and reading a book. She decided to see why he was there.

Daken noticed that woman from the club in Brussels, Darcy, entering the cafe. She couldn’t be his contact, could she? It was too odd of a coincidence that she was here as well.

“So, small world? That’s an interesting choice of book. Trying to pick up a heartbroken thirty-something?”

Clearly, she wasn’t his contact. Daken marked in place in his book. “I’m meeting someone. You need to go away.” Why was she even here?

“Drug deal? No way you’re a spy, that haircut has to be against regulations.” Darcy continued, undeterred by his rudeness.

“Go. Away.” Daken sipped his tea. On second thought, was she tailing him? He had thought he had gone unnoticed the past few years.

“Fine. Way to be, asshole.” Darcy went to the opposite end of the cafe, effectively pissing off the hostess with her luck. She ordered a coffee of some sort and dug out her travel journal to write. When she noticed a Suit join Dorian at his table, she put away her journal and left. Maybe an aimless walk around the canals would clear out the rest of her anger.

Ten minutes after Darcy had disappeared, Daken’s business had been concluded. He received another name in another city and their meeting time with the warning that this pattern would continue. Compartmentalizing information was the only way they could keep the Facility of Miracles hidden from prying eyes. He would be collecting puzzle pieces to make a picture of a map.

That woman, Darcy, had left the cafe, but her scent still lingered. She wouldn’t be difficult for Daken to track. He found it extremely suspicious that she had crossed his path twice, the second time right before his meeting. And immediately after his contact arrived, she left the cafe. He needed to find her and discover what she was about.

Darcy had meandered through the canals and bridges with no discernible destination in sight. She paused on one of the bridges to look at the houseboats, some festively decorated for the impending holidays. A voice called out behind her, “I hope you don’t expect me to sing that god awful song from the ride.” ‘Dorian’ had strolled up behind her on the bridge.

Darcy turned to face him, “If you’re apologizing for being rude, you really suck at it.” She tried to mimic his cool as fuck James Dean lean against the bridge, but that fucker was better at looking cool than she’d ever be.

“Which is why I never apologize.” Daken said. As he made a mental note of how much she looked like a bundled up American college co-ed, he wondered who could have sent her.

“You can’t expect to get better at something if you don’t practice,” she admonished.

“I’ll take that advice to heart.” Maybe SHIELD, he thought.

“Do you have one?” She asked.

“I’ve been told that I haven’t.” He shifted position, looking out over the canal. If she were working for someone, it would have to be SHIELD. Rumor had it one of their top agents had been a carnie.

“Ah, so the world is fooled by your clever ruse.” God help her, but she started to like this asshole. She needed her head examined.

Daken turned towards her again, “I think a man should invent his own myth.” But, had he gotten onto SHIELD’s radar?

Darcy laughed. “Hey that’s my line. I’m supposed to torment you with Wilde quotes.”

“I’ve heard them all.” No, excepting the incident at the X-23 facility, he had been careful. 

“I’ll bet you have. So, did your drug deal work out?” Great, just go for broke Darcy. What if he really was a drug dealer?

He snorted. “Drug dealers don’t get skittish, you know what? My business isn’t any of your concern.” He moved to leave.

“So you’re a spy then.” Her words drew him back to her.

“Do I look like I’m a spy?” He found her accusation laughable as she was the one acting suspiciously. “Or maybe I’m into human trafficking and I didn’t want my contact to think you were merchandise.” He knew that would push her buttons.

“Excuse me?” Darcy put her hands on her hips. Not that she didn’t realize she would be prime goods on that market, but douche move pointing that out, Dorian.

Good, Darcy didn’t disappoint. “I’ll bet you have a classic 1940’s pin-up physique under the jeans, over-sized shirts, sweaters, bulky coats, et al. You cover-up for practicality, because it is colder than usual, but also for protection, because some assholes won’t take a hint or an outright rejection.” He paused at her quizzical stare. “You weren’t wearing typical club clothes when we crossed paths in Brussels.”

“Someone’s watched ‘Sherlock’ one too many times. Wait, you’re an Interpol agent breaking up a trafficking ring.” She couldn’t stop herself, could she? 

Darcy’s comment landed too close to the truth for Daken’s liking. Maybe she was tailing him, even though her whole demeanor contradicted that theory. He had never been so confused by someone before. Usually he could work up a complete profile on anyone within a ten minute conversation. 

“You are a ridiculous person.”

“Says the guy with a MOHAWK.”

“It just grows that way,” he replied.

“Uh-uh. Sure. Now pull the other one.”

“Running into you is an odd coincidence.” Daken hoped his statement would trip her up. 

“I am hostel hopping through Europe before Christmas. Probabilities are endless. I learned that from a really smart scientist.” Darcy pushed her glasses back up her nose. A nervous habit, but whatevs. And what the hell wasn’t he saying? She could tell the gears were turning in his head.

“Law of numbers, there are no coincidences?” He returned. No such luck. Darcy gave no signs of nervousness or lying. No, her babble was real. He also got the impression she would be greatly insulted if he even insinuated she might be some government’s stooge.

“Gods I hope so.” Darcy sighed. “Are we going to continue the flirty, snarky thing or is one of us going to have the balls to invite the other to dinner or whatever?”

“Let’s go with whatever.”

“So you’re saying you have no balls. Or that you’re the real life James Bond. But at least you can admit your failings.”

“I thought I was one of the evil henchmen.” He said.

“Way to call back there. I can’t even remember half the shit I say and I’m the one saying it.”

“Maybe if you took a few moments pause to think before speaking.”

“Dude, I refuse to be insulted by someone with a mohawk.” Maybe she was being too judgmental about his hair? But it was ridic.

“Continuously insulting my hair is no way to get a dinner invitation.” Daken chided her.

“Okay, so you do want to have dinner with me. One question answered.”

“Did I say that?”

She smiled, “Not in so many words.”

“Fine. Are you truly backpacking or do you have grown up luggage?” 

What a weird question to ask her. “Why?”

“I only dine at Michelin rated restaurants or the equivalent. You’ll need fancier clothes than jeans and over-sized sweaters. Fancy dress won’t fit in a backpack.”

“Oh hell no. I am not Julia Roberts and you sure as fuck aren’t Richard Gere.” Darcy said, insulted. She loathed that movie with the passion of a thousand, fiery suns.

“I said you’ll need a dress; I didn’t say I’d let you run rampant with my credit cards. And don’t insult me further. Like I would want to be Gere.” If anyone could pull off the old-money, snooty, huffy offended look while sporting a mohawk, Dorian had that shit down. Damn he was good at it. He should charge for lessons.

“Live a little, dude. Casual dining is way better. More relaxed atmosphere. Wait, did we just-”

“Make very vague dinner arrangements. Yes, yes we did.” Had they really, yes they had. How had he let that happen? Two minutes ago he had convinced himself she worked for SHIELD.

“Want to grab something now?” Hey, a girl could hope.

“No, but maybe in the next city in which we coincidentally meet again, maybe then. It’s been… entertaining, Darcy.” With no further ado, he put on his sunglasses and strode away.

“What is that guy’s damage?” Darcy thought to herself. He had cold and aloof down pat. For some reason Darcy felt that there was something more to him. Bad Darcy, always believe someone’s an asshole when they show you they’re an asshole. But had he really done that? The only time he had been truly rude was in the cafe, when he was meeting, well, whoever the hell he was meeting. And then he sought her out to apologize. Okay, so pretending to be an asshole. 

Damn it, now she wanted to know more. He did seem genuinely interested in having dinner. And he kept talking to her, despite her litany of babble. But like they’d really run into each other again. Curse her rotten luck. 

Daken’s phone woke him up around one in the morning. Apparently he hadn’t called Laura in over two weeks and she had grown concerned. He let her know that he was in Amsterdam and would be sending her a gift. She hoped it wouldn’t be a miniature windmill they hauck for the tourists. Daken, insulted by her insinuation, assured her that he had much better taste than that. He had bought a Van Gogh print at the museum as well as a small, inlaid jewelry box. That would be sent to her for Christmas. He promised to call her in a few days. 

She did not tell him that Logan had figured out he was alive. Or that he had offered to answer any questions Laura might have, even though he couldn’t promise to know everything. But Logan, well, he said he knew enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you spot the character reference? I love doing those little drop-ins.


	6. Three times is either true, or a charm, or f-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Christmas shopping and running into each other, again. The Universe has a seriously messed up sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be going on vacation in a short while, so there might not be an update for three weeks. Thanks for all the kudos and comments.
> 
> As always, unbeta'd.

Daken had moved on to Cologne, had received the next location and date, and now had leisure time. Seeing how Christmas was a few weeks away, he decided to go shopping at the Weihnachtsmarkt by the cathedral or, Dom. Unlike the crass commercialism in the States, the Christmas Market nearly put him in the Christmas spirit. The stalls were full of handmade jewelry, baked goods, holiday jams and spreads, kitschy Christmas hats and sunglasses, steins, cookies, stollen, and everything you could possibly need or want for an authentic German Christmas. 

The market was crowded early afternoon. Which is why he was surprised that he picked up her scent before he saw her. He hadn’t decided whether to approach her or not, when she spotted him. Darcy’s face took on an uncategorizable look. Well then, why not go all in?

Fuck coincidences, fuck them right in the ear! Maybe mohawks were SHIELD regulation after all, Darcy thought. Except hadn’t he told her to basically fuck off in that cafe in Amsterdam? If he was tailing her, well, maybe he had been meeting his c.o. And didn’t want to blow his cover. Or maybe she had grown too paranoid with everything she had been through. Oh, and now the arrogant fucker strolled leisurely towards her. Darcy still hadn’t worked out what to say to him by the time he reached her. Luckily, he spoke first.

“Fancy seeing you here, Darcy.”

Oh how she wanted to slap him. Instead a deliciously devious idea popped into her head. She sang out “It’s a small world after all,” she paused then said, “what, you said you weren’t going to so somebody had to.”

“Are you following me?” They both asked.

“That answers that question.” Darcy said.

“Does it?”

“Well I know I’m not a jack-booted, man-in-black, suit-wearing, equipment-stealing thug. Not sure about you though.” She folded her arms across her chest.

Daken had to admit that she looked rather adorable all bundled up and full of indignation against the backdrop of Christmas. He had already purchased some handcrafted jewelry for Laura. He had started to warm up to Christmas. The Weihnachtsmarkt's lack of consumerism helped with that. Was he going festive?

“What, no response?” Darcy opened her arms, inviting a reply.

“Sorry, my train of thought was derailed by all of the Christmas.” Daken gestured around them.

“It is Shiny.” Darcy agreed.

“I think that was a reference to something, but I’m not sure what.” He admitted. “Anyway, do you really think that I would be a government stooge?”

“Mohawks can’t be regulation. And even though you’re an asshole, you’re the wrong kind of asshole for that job.”

“I’m touched you think so highly of me.” He turned his attention to the booth they were at, homemade jams and relishes. Interesting but not something to ship to Laura. He turned his attention back to Darcy. “Are you in Koln long?”

“Why?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Daken gestured for her to walk with him to the next booth. Oh goodie, it was full of kitschy Christmas hats and sunglasses. Fabulous.

“Again, why?” Darcy had put on a ridiculous pair of green glitter sunglasses with holly berries glued to the sides.

Daken removed the sunglasses from her face and put them back. “Didn’t I say we’d have dinner in the next city where coincidence reared its ugly head?”

“It sounded more like a kiss off than an invitation.” Darcy reached for another pair of sunglasses.

“Perhaps this is-”

Darcy stopped mid-grab to slap her hand over his mouth. “I swear to god if you say fate or destiny I will kick you in the balls so hard, Google won’t be able to find them.” She removed her hand from his mouth.

“I never saw so much vitriol directed towards a commonplace phrase.” He said in wonder.

“If you knew my mother… Anyway, space elves in London, I helped stop them. Before that,” Darcy scanned the crowd, it seemed free of Agent type people. To be safe, she pulled Daken off to the side of the booth. “Before that I tasered Thor. Back in 2010. Puente Antigua, New Mexico. Deep web search if you don’t believe me.”

“I understand, you don’t want to tempt-” this time Darcy punched him in the arm. She had some force behind her hit.

“Shut. Up.” She hissed. 

Darcy thoroughly amused him. Youthful energy, intelligent, sarcasm, a who gives a fuck attitude, all wrapped in an attractive package. Perhaps he could allow himself one small distraction. He might as well have some fun during his quest to restore his powers to full strength.

Daken rubbed his arm. “I was going to say ‘the Moirai’ before you so rudely assaulted me.”

“What is your damage? And wow, you actually know their proper name, you get a gold star, Dorian,” Darcy walked back to the booth with the kitschy hats, Daken followed behind. “And I pick the restaurant.” She turned to the salesperson. “Entschuldigen Sie, sprechen Sie Englisch?” The seller nodded. “Oh good, I’m out of practice with my German. I would like those green sunglasses with the holly berries, bitte.” 

“Have you been to Koln before?” Daken asked as he silently judged her for her purchase. Maybe he should get one of the hats for Laura as a joke. 

“Well, no, but there’s a really good Biergarten a few blocks from my hostel.” Darcy paid for her purchase. “Danke schon.”

“Entschuldigen Sie, ich mochte der Hut mit silbernen Glocken zu kaufen, bitte schon.” 

Darcy whistled as the seller packaged a green knit toboggan with dangling silver bells. “You, sir, are a man of many talents and excellent taste.” 

Daken paid for his hat and they walked towards the exit of the Weihnachtsmarkt. “Well that settles it, I pick the restaurant. A beer garden, really?”

“Your mohawk wouldn’t be out of place there, not wearing those designers duds you’re wearing now, but…”

“You’re ashamed to be seen with me.” He sniffed.

“Now you’re fucking with me.” They exited the market onto the streets of Cologne.

He smirked. “I always fuck with everyone. It’s my area of expertise.”

“Default personality, more like.” Darcy muttered.

“There is a difference.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” Darcy pointed down a street. “That way, Watson. My hostel’s only three blocks away.”

“Why am I the sidekick in this scenario?” Daken asked as he continued in the direction she indicated. Too late he realized he escorted her home. He did have manners; he never had opportunities or occasions enough in his old life to use them. 

“Figure of speech. Don’t get all prissy on me when I’m starting to think you’re cool. Ugh, fragile male egos are the worst.” 

“Aren’t they though?” He joked.To his surprise he found himself enjoying walking Darcy to her door, as it were. Was he going soft?

“Well, this is me. So pick me up here at seven?”

Daken checked his watch. “Sure, gives me enough time to do my hair.” He walked away.

“Thought you said it grew that way!” Darcy shouted after him. He waved his hand in acknowledgement of her accusation and then disappeared around the corner. “Wait, did I just make a definite date with an asshole tonight? Well fuck me.”

Daken returned promptly at seven to find Darcy waiting outside for him. 

“College bro invasion.” She said by way of greeting. “And the shower next to my room broke, so I have to share with the Bros. How was the rest of your day, dear?” She hopped down the steps to him.

“Apparently less traumatizing than yours. Do you still insist on that Biergarten?”

“Not sure as there’s a sausage fest here, but the people watching should be amazeballs. Plus, beer.” She laughed as Daken wrinkled his nose in disgust. What could beer have ever done to personally offend him so much? “Dude, German beer, not that piss water dads chug at backyard barbeques.”

“Since you put it that way.” He offered his arm to her. After a moment’s hesitation, Darcy linked her arm in his. “Wait, wouldn’t the gardens be closed in December?” They began to walk in the direction of the restaurant.

“The restaurant part is still open.” She looked at their intertwined arms. “Never had you pegged as old-fashioned. Then again, you are named Dorian.”

“I’m full of surprises; it’s my best quality.” That and his proficiency in killing and torturing people, but she didn’t need to know that. 

As they walked to the Biergarten, Daken regaled her with a tale of “Dorian’s” previous stay in Germany as an adolescent Navy brat. When he got to the part of Dorian’s story that involved the aunt raising him in Madripoor, Darcy interrupted.

“Do not get me started on that place.”

“Do you know much about Madripoor?” Daken inquired.

“Poli-sci degree, duh. Well as much as an ‘outsider’ can really know about it. Talk about a real life Mos Eisley.”

“A real life what?”

“You know, ‘you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy’ Mos Eisley. Star Wars, 1977?” No way he couldn’t know that reference, everyone knows Star Wars.

“College graduate and a nerd.”

“Hey, I go three ways; nerd, geek, and dork.”

“You have me beat; I only go two ways, although I hate labels. Wait, would orgies count as more than two?” He mused.

“Oh my god.” Darcy let go of his arm and playfully shoved him. “Troll.” Daken played along and stumbled at her push.

Refreshingly open and without artifice, Darcy could get him into trouble if he weren’t focused on his ultimate goal. Daken had never allowed himself the simple pleasure of getting to know someone without there being an ulterior motive on his or their side. It felt like being on vacation from his life. Maybe he needed this dream sequence, as it were, to bring him the success he craved. 

“And we’re here, Mr. Pensive.” 

As they entered the restaurant, Daken catalogued the exit routes, the potential threats (barely counted as such), and the diverse clientele ripe for the picking should his evening turn in that direction. He removed his hat, coat, and scarf revealing part of his tattoo that adorned his neck.

‘So that’s the deal with the turtlenecks,’ Darcy thought followed by, ‘hot damn.’ Well fuck, she was in trouble. Maybe falling for the “bad boy” was genetics. Didn’t bio-mom have that epic on-again, off-again romance of the Ages with the ultimate “bad boy?”

Daken noticed Darcy staring, her increased heart rate, the slight flush in her face, now wasn’t that interesting? He had just sat down, after helping seat Darcy, and was about to say something witty like “see something you want?” when they were rudely interrupted. Darcy’s hostel college bros had come over to their table.

“Hey, Darcy, right?” Bro #1 went for casual but just, no.

“So this is the friend you were meeting for dinner?” Bro #2 was all in on the male posturing.

“‘Sup, bro.” Bro #3 decided to do the fake friendly thing to Daken, who gamely raised an eyebrow in response to being addressed in such a manner.

“Um, yeah,” Darcy looked at Daken in a “help me out here” sort of way. .

Did they really have to be so transparent? Clearly the three of them had some sort of competition going to see who could “win” Darcy. Should Daken risk it? His pheromones hadn’t worked on her before so maybe they wouldn’t work now. He concentrated on repelling the three “bros” while he spoke to Darcy. 

“Bored now. Make them go away.” 

Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “What my asshole of a friend meant to say-”

“Excuse me, I meant every word I said.” Daken noticed that the bros had taken a few steps back from the table and looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Rude, anyway fellas, “ Darcy continued, “he’s a bit anti-social and overwhelmed by your manly presences so maybe some more breathing room would be nice. Like maybe could you go to a restaurant the next town over? K, thanks, bye.”

“Whatever.”

“Not worth our time, bro.” The three idiots made a beeline for the door, clearly now repulsed by Daken, and egos crushed by Darcy.

Daken stared at Darcy, who appeared completely unaffected by his powers.

“What?” Why was he staring at her like that?

Daken regained his composure and smiled. “That was impressive. You are incredibly gifted at getting assholes to leave you alone.”

“If that’s so true, why are you still here? Ha! Oh I crack me up. Don’t forget to tip your servers, I’m here all night.” She finished by doing a rim shot tap on the table.

They revealed a little more about themselves over dinner. Darcy told some more “Life with Jane and a god” stories, because beer and why not, meanwhile Daken talked about his construction job and the “trust fund” he could finally dip into to pay for his European excursion.

“I should have had you pegged as a trust fund rebel, but that doesn’t seem entirely accurate.” Darcy commented at the end of Daken’s story.

“Should we settle our bill?”

“If we must.” Darcy sighed. “I really don’t, never mind.”

“Don’t want to deal with the three idiots fighting over your hand?” Daken intoned.

“Ugh. I am so not Quinn Morgandorfer.” Darcy paused at Daken’s perplexed look. “Oh my god, MTV’s Daria, late ‘90’s/early 2000’s cartoon, back when MTV was still cool. It’s on Hulu. She’s right up your sarcastic alley.”

“I’ll have to look it up.” Daken considered Darcy for a moment, then said, “you could always bunk with me.”

“How many times do I need-”

“Not Julia Roberts and not Richard Gere. Relax, I always book a double room, they’re larger.” The waitress brought their bill; Darcy grabbed it.

“Yoink. Hey, I have an Amex Black card from bio-mom with the express instructions to, and I quote, ‘go crazy.’ So dinner is on me.”

“If that’s the case, why are you staying at hostels and not five star hotels?”

“I didn’t want to go white-coat crazy. Plus I thought it would be a good way to meet people I’d want to hang out with. Clearly, I misjudged that factor by a lot.”

“My offer still stands.” Daken opted to not be an asshole and point out how right Darcy was at misjudging what her hostel experience would turn out to be.

“Thanks, but I can handle any situation.” She handled Puente Antigua and London just fine, thank you very much. Although come to think of it, she didn’t do any of that by herself. Anyway she paid the bill, Daken escorted her back to the hostel, and she hoped for a peaceful night.

Meanwhile Daken returned to his hotel, showered, changed, and went on the prowl down Zulpicher Strasse. He managed to find a companion for the evening, a fairly attractive university student with a tiny dorm room. Daken returned to his hotel in the morning to find Darcy waiting for him in the lobby with her luggage aside of her.

“So, is that offer still good?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weihnachtsmarkts are seriously awesome. Google them if you don't believe me. And apologies for the German words lacking umlauts, don't know how to turn on that feature in google docs. And "Koln" is the German name for Cologne.


	7. You've got a travel buddy in me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is not a Damsel in Distress. Daken is not a Knight in Shining Armor. But maybe traveling together is safer (and less suspicious) than traveling alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to some M/M action that happened between chapters. Also Darcy's privacy was violated "off screen."

Daken had had a pleasurable evening. Heinrik proved a competent enough companion. Heinrik’s dorm room, while clean was also claustrophobic, which pushed Daken to leave earlier than he normally would. Although he didn’t need much sleep, Daken enjoyed the indulgence of a lie-in.

As he walked back to his hotel, Daken replayed his mental checklist of his quest to find this Facility of Miracles. He had to meet his next contact in Berlin in three days. After that, well, he would receive that information from the Berlin contact. Maybe if he could rely on his pheromones, the process would be expedited. No sense in going down that rabbit hole of frustrating thoughts. He stopped for a coffee and pastry before he reached his hotel, where events took an interesting turn. Darcy waited for him in the lobby holding onto to her rolling luggage.

“So, is that offer still good?” She asked with a hint of resignation in her voice.

“What happened?” He surprised himself by being concerned for her. The way she sounded and the fact she was even there signified something had happened at the hostel to bring her to him.

“I may or may not have assaulted one of the Bros. He tried to sneak a shower peek. And I may or may not have, after wrapping a towel around me, grabbed a hold of his tiny dingleberries and squeezed.” She looked pleased with herself.

“Dingleberries?” Darcy had a unique vocabulary, Daken had to give her that.

“That’s what you take away from this?” Darcy grabbed the handle of her luggage. “So this was a bad idea.”

“Wait, your word choice is, well, why would you be-”

“They kicked us all out. Yay Karma or whatevs. Apparently the appropriate response would have been to tell the manager what had happened instead of teaching that douche a real world, real time lesson about the consequences of behaving like a pig. Look, I’ll only be in your hair, bad choice of words because I am never touching that-”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point about-”

“Anyway, I’m off to Berlin tomorrow. Yay trains!” Darcy finished.

Now that information turned out to be a strange coincidence. “That’s odd. I need to be in Berlin in 3 days for a business meeting.” Had he told her too much?

“Are you proposing travel buddies? Because right now, I am so down with that idea. My solo adventures have been nothing but major suckage. Better the asshole you know than the ones you don’t.” Business meeting? Dorian probably was a drug dealer, but the high end club drugs. Or something else entirely, Japanese mother, tattoo he hides. Great Darcy, why don’t you go traipse around Europe with a member of the Yakuza.

“That sounded like there was a compliment in there somewhere. Why don’t I get a room key for you and you can come and go as you please.” Daken proceeded to get an extra key from the concierge desk before he escorted Darcy to his, now their, room.

The room had two double beds, an en suite (bonus), some high end touches, antique furnishings, and looked like it hadn’t been slept in. Come to think of it, hadn’t Dorian come in from outside the hotel? Darcy had gotten there fairly early. “So what did you get up to after dinner last night?” Darcy asked as she stowed her luggage. She debated taking off her coat, but her growling stomach told her she would be leaving the room soon.

Daken flopped onto one of the beds, “oh, I picked up a mediocre lay, Heinrik, I think was his name. University student, enthusiastic but lacked experience. His dorm room was clean though.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen. Do you know how rare it is to find a clean dorm room in this world?”

He certainly wasn’t expecting such a blaze response. He needed to investigate Darcy more. First, he had to get her to leave. “I think I’m going to nap for a while. Feel free to go explore on your own.” Daken closed his eyes.

“Wow, rudest travel buddy ever.” Darcy grabbed her purse and room key and left.

Daken took the opportunity to rifle through Darcy’s luggage. A laptop and iPod proved to be normal, no spy gear. A travel journal yielded nothing more than Darcy’s wry observations of her misadventures. Darcy was exactly who she claimed to be; he could lay his suspicions to rest.

 

After his nap, he went in search of her. He found Darcy in a coffee shop a few blocks from the Dom Weihnachtsmarkt.

“Oh, so now you want to hang out,” Darcy greeted him.

“Didn’t get any sleep last night. I get grumpy when I’m tired.” Daken sat down in the empty seat across from her.

“What’s your excuse the rest of the time?” Darcy sipped her coffee.

“Genetics. My father,” Daken paused, “well, he’s not known for his cuddly disposition.”

“Right, I forgot you were a military brat.” Darcy thought that something didn’t jibe with Dorian’s story of his father being career Navy. The Navy had standards and psych evals. Whoever helped mold Dorian into the asshole he was today cleary had to be a major dickhead with sociopathic tendencies. But hey, respect people’s secrets and what not, right?

“It’s the mohawk, isn’t it?” He joked.

“Dude, a joke, wow. That nap did you some good. I’d say it’s also your fashion sense. Completely high end designer.”

He shook his head. “Now you’re being prejudiced, like the Navy is full of country bumpkins who never heard of a mall.”

“Not much room for a mall on those ships.” She realized he deflected like a pro. She had taken a few psych courses and a criminology course for shits and giggles. Plus, experience. Too many girls who suddenly weren’t her friends for no apparent reason. Darcy knew all about the wounds that never quite healed. After puberty overly blessed her, her female friends soon turned to enemies. Talk about constant betrayal; god bless the AV geeks and theater crew for coming to her social nightmare rescue.

“Earth to Darcy,” Daken snapped his fingers in his face. She swatted his hand away.

“Sorry, high school flashback.” She shuddered for dramatic effect.

“Don’t you hate that? You’re having a lovely conversation and the past has to intrude. Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“If you’re buying, then no, I haven’t.”

They left the coffee shop together and found a nearby restaurant. After their meals arrived, their talk turned back to their earlier conversation at the hotel.

“Were you really offering to be travel buddies or were you just” Darcy waved her hand in the air not having words to finish her question.

“Making a random observation? Remarking on the remarkable coincidence? I’ve read too many classics to stubbornly ignore-”

“I swear to god, Dorian, do not say fate or Morai or anything like that.” Darcy interrupted.

“Signs. Our paths keep intersecting for some reason.” Daken took a sip of his wine.

Darcy did not want to think about what Dorian implied. “So on to more practical concerns. Train tickets to Berlin. Best way to see a country.”

“Don’t want to drive in a foreign country? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left it in Kalamazoo. Besides most of the cars are stick and I can’t bring myself to destroy a poor car. Besides the Autobahn scares me and this trip is all about regaining my chill after the Space Elves and… other stuff.” Darcy pushed the remnants of her lunch around her plate.

“Do you already have your ticket?” Daken hoped she hadn’t been baiting him to ask more about the other stuff. He had concerns of his own and he really didn’t care about hers. And compassionate was never a word used to describe him. Why would he ruin his reputation now?

“No. Still debating the first class upgrade courtesy of bio-mom’s Amex black.” Darcy did not want to be beholden to that, that woman.

“First rule of travel, always travel first class when someone else is paying.”

“I think that sounds more like your life philosophy, Dorian. Talk about spot on baby naming.”

“My mother was an avid reader, so I’ve been told. Shall we pay our bill?” Daken had observed Darcy’s mood had dropped when speaking about her birth mother. No, he did not want to know more. Despite relating to the complicated feelings Darcy probably had about her birth mother, Daken was not equipped for discussing her feelings on the subject. He had more pressing concerns, like getting back to better than his old self.

“Have at it.” Darcy set her silverware on her plate and stretched, arching her back. “What?” Dorian had been staring, but not in the creepy ogling way she usually experienced. He looked like he had been studying a painting in the Louvre.

Daken summoned the waiter and asked for the bill. Once the waiter left, Daken spoke “You threatened to bombard me with Oscar Wilde quotes and yet you haven’t uttered one. I am shattered with disappointment.” Nice save, he thought to himself.

“Oh yeah, you look completely heartbroken there.” Darcy rolled her eyes.

“You don’t know that many quotes, do you?”

She grinned. “Challenge accepted. Wait until you’re trapped with me on the train tomorrow.”

“No internet, that’s cheating.” Had he cheered her up without using his pheromones? His personality usually had the opposite effect.

“I accept the terms of your challenge, no internet.” They shook hands; she didn’t tell him about the quotes she had saved in her txts.

 

The next morning Darcy awoke to Dorian on his phone. As soon as he noticed, he went into the en suite and shut the door. Okay, so not suspicious there. Darcy burrowed further into the bedding, making a cocoon of comfort around her.

Laura had called after not hearing from him since Brussels. He assured her that he was fine, enjoying himself, and would be sending her something for Christmas. After he scuttled into the bathroom, he realized that might have looked more than a little suspect. Well he could always say he hadn’t meant to disturb Darcy’s sleep. After ending his call with Laura, he exited the bathroom. Darcy’s head was the only part of her visible under the bedding.

“Don’t want the wifey-poo to find out about the ‘other woman’ huh?” Darcy teased.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Yeah, because you’re the poster child for considerate behavior.” Darcy rolled out of bed, still ensconced in her cocoon, looking like a bedding burrito. Her ridiculousness was almost endearing.

He raised his eyebrow at her sarcastic observation. “Did I or did I not offer you refuge from the College bros _before_ you had to take certain actions that got you thrown out of your hostel?”

“See? If you were considerate, you wouldn’t rub that in. And is the thermostat broken or did you grow up in the arctic?” Darcy waddled over to the adjust the room temperature. “I refuse to freeze my tits off first thing in the morning.”

“Does your mouth even have an off switch? You’ve only been awake for a minute.”

“When I was a kid and my mom would check in on me before she went to bed, I’d sit up in bed, look totally awake and have conversations with her. Didn’t remember any of it the next morning. True story.” Darcy dug through her suitcase for her toiletry bag. “So to answer your question,” Darcy yawned, “it depends.” She moved past him into the bathroom, dropping her bedding cocoon on the floor before locking herself in the en suite.

What had Daken gotten himself into? Granted by traveling with Darcy, he would look less suspicious. A rationale he used to justify wanting to travel with her. He had made one friend a few years ago, before everything went to shit when he Logan crossed paths. No, Darcy would not become his friend, or a convenient lay. He would travel with her and ride out these series of coincidences while they lasted. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his daily breakfast. There would be enough to share.

“Breakfast is here,” he called through the closed bathroom door and added, “don’t take forever, the car will be here in thirty minutes to take us to the train station.” He thought he made out “suck an elf” in response. Soon enough Darcy would fade into a distant memory and he would be restored to his full strength ready to take his rightful place as Madripoor’s overseer of illicit businesses. “Crime Boss” was such a limiting word.


	8. If this isn't the Orient Express, why is there a dead body?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Daken travel to Berlin, on a train. It is not as carefree as the frog and the bear who traveled cross-country in a Studebaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd, any and all mistakes my own.

After breakfast, Daken checked them out of the hotel where the hired car had arrived promptly to take them to the train station. Daken got into the car before Darcy; she hesitated, uncomfortable with the whole “first class” situation.

“Still not Julia Roberts,” she said before joining him in the car.

“Still not Richard Gere,” he replied.

Darcy remained silent the entire drive to the train station. Grateful for the peace and quiet, Daken didn’t care why. He knew it would end a few minutes into the train ride.

  
Maybe the travel buddy suggestion wasn’t her best idea ever, but it certainly had to be better than the “I refuse to take gen-ed requirements” decision that landed her in the world of secret government agencies, space gods, and creepy ass alien elves. Darcy had totally screwed herself over in the “having a normal life” department. She bet “Dorian” wasn’t really a Dorian, but some kind of super-powered freak on the lam from said shady organizations. No, not freak, don’t be a bigot Darcy, she scolded herself.

Tickets purchased, seats found, Daken removed his coat and scarf, revealing a little more of his tattoo than Darcy had previously glimpsed. She fought against asking to see all of it and thought she had been inconspicuous.

“See something you like?” Daken didn’t let the opportunity pass this time.

To her credit, Darcy regained her composure and replied, “cool ink,” then returned to the task of removing her coat and stowing her luggage. She threw her coat, gloves, and scarf on the empty seat next to hers giving Daken a better view of her curvy physique in her jeans and thermal top.

‘Focus’ he silently admonished himself. He had to meet the Berlin contact in two days. Hopefully he hadn’t been sent on a wild goose chase.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you return the compliment,” Darcy said after finally sitting in the seat facing him.

“One should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art.”

“It’s on?”

“Oh, it’s on and I’m one point ahead.” Daken gloated.

“The secret of life is in art,” Darcy replied. She hoped he didn’t know that many Wilde quotes; she had only given her saved texts a cursory glance.

“So we’re going to spout off quotes without having an actual conversation?”

“Conversation is one of the loveliest arts. Ha, two to one, suck on that!”

“You are one of the most ridiculous people I have ever met.” Daken pulled a small moleskin notebook out of his coat pocket.

“Do you concede then?”

“This train ride is four hours long. Besides I never travel without my diary,” he held up the notebook, “one should always have something sensational to read on the train. Tied, two all.”

“If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all. Bam, three to two.” Darcy knew she only had about one more quote ready to go.

“You are ridiculous. Fine, I concede defeat.” Daken returned his attention to his diary. Notes about the human trafficking ring he and his vigilante cohort tried to shut down. Every time they closed a supply line and liberated cargo, another supply chain would open within a month. There definitely was an unseen orchestrator working to enable as little disruptions in product distribution as possible. He’d have to call Tyger when he got to Berlin.

  
Meanwhile Darcy had plugged in her iPod and wrote in her travel journal. She could take a hint, Mr. Antisocial. Normally she prided herself on her ability to read people. But Dorian? Her powers failed with him. It’s like he wanted people to believe he was an asshole, as though he had to prove to himself that’s who he really was. It’s like Jane said, you can’t postulate a usable theory with data missing.

“Oh shit, Jane! Suck an elf!” Darcy searched for her phone.

“Such language,” Daken tutted.

Darcy removed her earbuds, “What?”

“Nothing, go about your business.” Daken returned his attention to his notes. There had to be a pattern, trail that led to the puppet master.

Darcy found her phone and side-eyed Daken before she called Jane. “Hey, wow you actually answered your phone. Yeah, sorry about that. On the train to Berlin. I don’t know. Found a cool pair of sunglasses at the Christmas market. I’ll get everyone Christmas hats from the one in Berlin. I’m totes behaving myself. How’s Erik? Uh-huh. Good. Wait, Thor did what? Wow. Anyway, I better go.” Darcy had noticed ‘Dorian’s’ interest piqued when she mentioned Thor. “At least you know I’m not dead or smuggled into a trafficking ring. Laters.” Darcy ended the call. “Nosey Nigel,” she scolded.

“So you really did taser the Norse god of Thunder.” He opted to ignore her strange turn of phrase.

“Let’s keep that on the DL, okay?” Darcy looked around the sparsely populated train car. Dude wearing a suit three aisles away hastily turned his attention elsewhere.

“Since we have about three hours until Berlin, why don’t you tell me why you detest ‘Pretty Woman’ so much?” Daken figured she could probably fill two hours at least on that topic.

“Oh where do I begin?” Darcy proceeded to talk at length about the many faults she saw in that movie. Not just from a feminist perspective, but also from a storytelling standpoint. Daken interjected occasionally, and found Darcy’s analysis well argued and intelligent. However, he did miscalculate the time she would speak; Darcy’s verbal manifesto lasted two and a half hours. She only stopped because she had to use the bathroom.

  
As soon as Darcy had exited their car, the man in the suit had gotten up and followed her. “Damn it,” thought Daken. That man had been too obvious in attempting to hide the fact that he had watched them. A few moments after the suited man had left the car, Daken resigned himself to doing the right thing, and followed him.

When Daken caught up to the man outside the bathroom, he needn’t have worried. Darcy had successfully incapacitated him. The man was curled in on himself, definitely a kick to the balls, and what appeared to be a broken nose. A startled Darcy rounded on Daken as soon as she heard him.

Daken held up his hands, “I come in peace. What happened?”

“I really don’t know. I thought he might be, anyway, totally isn’t so I did SING. ‘Miss Congeniality?’ And I still need to pee.”

“I’ll stand guard while you do what you need to, then you’ll return to our seats like nothing happened while I take care of this.” Daken poked the prone man with his shoe. Thankfully Darcy did as Daken had instructed without much fuss and Daken dragged the man into the bathroom for an impromptu interrogation. While Daken had feared complications Darcy may cause, he never imagined them to be like this.

  
Twenty minutes later, he returned to their seats to face a nervous looking Darcy.

“What took you so long? Tell me you didn’t throw him off the train,” she hissed. “Wait, no you couldn’t have. An alarm would’ve gone off.”

“Darcy, I am going to say one thing: plausible deniability. Do you understand the concept?” She fidgeted in her seat before asking if he knew what that creep wanted with her. “Yes, we’ll discuss it later. He’s out cold in the bathroom; I’ve trapped him in there. When we get to the station, I’ll report him as a pedophile to the Polizei. He did try to accost a girl in a bathroom, after all. And that moron doesn’t speak German well enough to contradict my accusation. Which, now that I think about it, is rather strange.”

“Fine. When we get to the hotel, you tell me whatever the fuck you’re leaving out now.”

“Agreed.” Daken still hadn’t made sense out the man’s confession. Daken’s pheromones had worked, the man spilled his guts, and revealed that HYDRA was very much alive and well. HYDRA. As Darcy would say, fuck his life.

  
When the train arrived in Berlin, the Polizei boarded as the passengers deboarded. Daken caught a few words, he made out “suicide” and “bathroom.”

“Lean into me, like we’re cuddling.” Daken instructed Darcy.

“What?”

“Just. Do it.” He ground out.

Darcy did as she was told and asked in a low tone, “what’s going on?”

“Reports of a man who committed suicide in a bathroom,” he whispered into her hair.

To an outside observer, they looked like quite the lovesick couple. However, internally Darcy freaked the fuck out. Daken managed to maneuver them through the throng and out to the taxis. They arrived at the hotel and checked in in short time.

Darcy rounded on him the moment they were alone in the hotel room. “What. The. Actual. Fuck. Dorian? Tell me you’re not, you didn’t,” what the hell had she gotten herself into?

“Relax, he was perfectly alive when I left him. You may want to sit down for this part. Seriously, sit.” Darcy sat on the edge of one of the beds.

“Explain. Now.”

“He said he was HYDRA, lower rungs, acting alone after a little snafu. He recognized you from a video of the attacks in London. He thought you were a scientist and kidnapping you would, well, get him back in the good graces of HYDRA’s elite.”

“HYDRA?” Again, what the actual fuck?

“That’s what he claimed.”

“How did you get him to tell you all of this in twenty minutes?”

“Trade secret. Don’t worry, my interrogation technique does not involve anything physical. There will be no evidence to be traced back to either of us.” Less is more, he thought.

“Fuck me sideways with a rubber chicken. You have superpowers, don’t you?” Just her damn luck.

“I’m sorry, I still can’t get over the first part of that statement to address the second part.” She certainly had a colorful vocabulary, he thought.

“Yeah, you’re not going to address the second part.” Darcy flopped backwards to lay on the bed.

Daken smirked. “It’s like you know me.”

“HYDRA. Aren’t they supposed to not exist anymore?”

“When does any part of the human race ever do what it’s supposed to?”

“Deep, man. So, HYDRA.” Darcy wondered if she should alert SHIELD. And then they’d question where she came across this information. She had no evidence to support her story. She sat back up. “I’ve totally screwed myself over in the ‘have a normal life’ department.”

“Being normal is boring,” Daken scoffed.

“Says the man with superpowers. Say can-”

“No. You can’t ask and I’m not telling you what they are. Drop the subject.” He should show some sympathy, after all, Darcy had narrowly escaped being kidnapped by an evil organization. On second thought, “or you could tell me what your biological mother did to make you scamper around Europe on her dime. In return I’ll tell you one of my ‘powers.’ Quid Pro Quo.”

“Forget it. Wait, one-”

“You said forget it, deal’s off the table.”

“Asshole.” They fell into a companionable silence for a few minutes.

“HYDRA?” she asked yet again still mired in disbelief.

“HYDRA,” he confirmed.

“Fuck my life.” Darcy flopped back onto the bed and drifted into sleep. A nap would do her good.

  
When she woke up two hours later, Dorian was gone. He had left a note, ‘went for a walk- stay put,’ how charming. Darcy decided to charge her phone and rifle through Dorian’s luggage. Don’t think for a second that she didn’t know he had looked through her stuff when they were in Cologne. Fair’s fair, after all. Unfortunately the most incriminating item she found was a package addressed to a Laura Kinney at some boarding school for geniuses in West Chester, New York. Nothing screamed Yakuza member, so Darcy let that hairbrained theory rest.

She flicked through the local stations on the TV, wondering when Dorian would return. Her search had yielded no new insights into his character. And unlike him, she was OCD enough to put everything back exactly as she had found it. It wasn’t a total loss, this Laura Kinney had to be something to him. Maybe a half-sister from his father? That would explain Dorian’s animosity towards his dad. Except why send her presents? Unless Dorian paid for her school instead of their father. She needed to stop with the conspiracy theory bull shit. iPod time.

  
Meanwhile Daken had gone to scout the location for his meeting tomorrow. A fairly public location with the potential for plenty of witnesses should anything untoward transpire. He called Tyger in Madripoor to see if their operation had imploded. It hadn’t and she was not pleased to hear that he wouldn’t be back for a few months. He had a lead for entering undercover into the trafficking ring. He confirmed her suspicions that there was a Puppet Master behind the many routes they had shut down. Satisfied with his story, she ended the call. Daken was glad she bought his story; he wasn’t sure how long it would take at The Facility for his powers to be fully restored.

Upon returning to his, their, hotel room, Daken had to push aside an empty room service cart to enter. Darcy had her iPod in and rocked out while looking out the window. She hadn’t noticed Daken come into the room at all. He’d have to work on that with her.

“I. Don’t. Want. To be SAAAVED!” Darcy sang before she turned around and promptly fell on the floor, startled by his sudden appearance.

“Oh, please _don’t_ stop on my account.” Daken hadn’t had this much innocent fun in years.

Darcy hauled herself up off of the floor and turned off her iPod. “Asshole.”

“Me or the floor?”

“Both. So did your sweep of the area yield any results?” Sure he went for a leisurely two hour walk for no reason.

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, come on. You leave me a note to ‘stay put’ while you go and take the air, right after an agent from a previously thought defunct evil organization tries to kidnap me. So, what are the results of your sweep? Anyone else lurking in the shadows-”

“No, no one else in the shadows,” except for Kage, he thought. “The idiot on the train truly acted alone.”

“That’s a relief. So I’m clear to go sightseeing?”

“Why don’t I go with you? I’m meeting an old friend tomorrow and won’t have as much time.” Again, why did he feel the need to protect this woman? He could get nothing of value from her.

‘Old friend’ her sainted aunt. “Sure, first stop is the Brandenburg Gate.”

They left the hotel, the Gate only a few blocks away, and then they wandered through other points of interest for the Berlin Wall. Darcy thought that the way ‘Dorian’ spoke about it happened to be a bit odd; as though he lived through not only its destruction, but its construction as well. She filed that observation away for later analysis. She had a feeling that ‘Dorian’ would do anything to keep his secrets safe.

 


	9. My legs are a jelly doughnut and other Berliner phrases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing their stay in Berlin, Daken meets his next contact. Meanwhile Darcy sends an SOS to Jane, has an unexpected visitor, and learns about classic movies. Special cameo of the one bed trope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in chapters. I like to write 3 to 4 ahead on this fic because it is turning out to be mammoth. I don't want the chapters to be redundant, also it allows me to use that wonderful literary device of foreshadowing.
> 
> As always, unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are my own.

The next morning Darcy’s legs still protested all the walking they did the day before. Once again she did not want to get out of bed. She rolled onto her side, facing the bathroom and was treated to seeing ‘Dorian’ in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Not for the first time in her life, Darcy was grateful she was too groggy (and stunned) to speak.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Breakfast should be here soon.” Daken commented.

“Mmpf.” came Darcy’s reply. Way to be intelligible there. And keep blinking so he doesn’t figure out that you’re totally ogling him.

“Aww, did I wear you out yesterday?” He smirked, then shut the bathroom door.

“Asshole,” she whispered, “really fucking hot asshole, but still.” She groped for her phone to send Jane a quick s.o.s txt: “Asshole travel buddy Super Hot. Japanese style body tat. Plz keep me from licking and/or jumping him.” And then promptly fell back asleep. When she next woke, said travel buddy had dressed and was eating breakfast without waking her. He wore the same black turtleneck and jeans he had on at the club in Brussels.

“Dude, are your jeans tailored?” She asked as she got out of bed, wrapped a blanket around her and joined him at the small table. She poured a cup of coffee for herself and served herself some of the breakfast he had ordered. He was busy texting someone.

“No, I know how to dress to impress, as the saying goes.” He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Too early for that much ego, asshole. And you need to work on your people skills,” she added while chewing a mouthful of food.

“You need to work on your table manners,” he retorted without glancing away from his phone.

“Says the man texting while dining with someone.”

That got his attention. He put the phone aside and noticed her. She had a little nest of bed hair on the left side of her face. “What are your plans for today?”

“Food, shower, Weihnachtsmarkt, lunch, then long soak in the tub we were super lucky to get. You?”

“Leaving in a few to meet up with my friend. Military brat reunion.”

That’s right, his “old friend” who had started out as being a business meeting when she first mentioned her traveling to Berlin. “Don’t have too much fun.” She punctuated her advice by finishing her coffee in one gulp.

“I’ll try not to.” Daken returned his attention to his phone.

Darcy finished eating then got up from the table. “Shower time; you’re not invited.”

“I wouldn’t presume to be, unlike other people.”

Darcy picked out some clean clothes, grabbed her toiletry case, and locked herself in the bathroom. As soon as he heard the water start to run, Daken gathered what he needed for his meeting and left.

When Darcy got out of the shower, she found ‘Dorian’ had already left. She itched to snoop through his things again, maybe find some coded note or something, but realized she had places to go too. So she finished dressing and headed out to do some more Christmas shopping. The Berlin Weihnachtsmarkt had to be ginormous.

 

Meanwhile Daken had arrived at his meet place, a rather lovely cafe. He ordered a coffee, took out “Eat, Pray, Love,” and waited. About ten minutes later, a man’s voice interrupted his reading.

“Excuse me, but I am lost. Do you speak English, young man?” Daken’s contact had arrived.

“Yes, I speak English. If you are lost, may I suggest reading this book?” Daken completed his part of the code.

“It is a good book for those trying to find their way.” The man sat across from Daken.

“I thought that’s where you came in.”

“I am not a GPS device. The information you provided us in Cologne has been verified.”

“So we’re done with the pillow talk?” Daken preferred the direct approach when it came to getting his powers fully restored.

“Tell me, why do you believe this facility could help you?”

Not that again, every meeting they asked that same question. “My father had ‘gifts’ that I seemingly haven’t inherited. I want to have mine unlocked; I refuse to believe that I’m not ‘gifted’ as well.”

“There are risks.”

“Aren’t there always?”

“Vienna. In five days you will meet your next contact outside the Opera House at fourteen hundred hours.”

“If I continue on your little goose chase, then what?”

“Now now, don’t get irritable. The final approval has not been given and patience is a desirable quality in a candidate for treatment.”

“My apologies,” Daken used his pheromones to put the man at ease. “I only want to be better.”

“Oh no, I am sorry. Please excuse my rudeness. I didn’t intend to upset you.” The man fell over himself begging for forgiveness.

Well at least his pheromones worked on this errand boy. “Not at all,” Daken replied. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No, but you must be in Vienna in five days. Fourteen hundred hours, the Opera House. Don’t forget your book.” The man excused himself and left the cafe.

 

Unfortunately Darcy had an unexpected run-in with her bio-mom at the Weihnachtsmarkt. Bio-mom seemingly materialized out of thin air and scared the bejebus out of Darcy.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here? Other than trying to give me a heart attack.”

“Darcy, darling, don’t be so melodramatic.”

Not for the first time, Darcy wondered how this woman could possibly be her mother. She looked like a combination of CEO, super model, and long ruling monarch. Darcy still didn’t have her shit together or any discernable life goals other than pay off her student loans. Before Jane there was that whole work for a non-profit or other noble cause using her knowledge to help them work the system to their advantage plan, but life or The Universe cackled at that one.

Which brought Darcy back to Bio-mom showing up now. Despite popping in and out of Darcy’s life like a renegade hippie, she was there for the puberty talk, the sex talks, high school graduation, right before she got the internship with Jane, college graduation, and of course, the aftermath of London. All the major milestones, there was Supermodel/CEO/Queen Bio-mom ready to give some vague advice like in all those myths when a god or goddess would show up to help the Hero. Now that Darcy thought about it, the showing up before Puente Antiguo should have been a red flag.

“Dude, you only show up when shit’s about to go down.” Darcy still felt awkward whenever she spoke with bio-mom.

“Or has. Are you enjoying your trip? Met any interesting people?” She twirled her hand around a scarf at one of the booths, perfecting a nonchalant appearance.

Darcy narrowed her eyes at her mother, “Maybe, why?” She would not rise to the bait. Besides, her mother probably already knew Darcy had picked up a travel buddy. Darcy was using her Amex card.

“Wasn’t that the point of this trip? To meet new and interesting people?”

“No, the point of this trip is to spend all of your money as revenge for dropping a bombshell on me after I, once again, helped save the Earth from yet another freaky alien attack.”

Her mother arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow in response. Darcy knew she probably wasn’t spoken to often in such a disrespectful tone. Darcy felt like shrinking into herself. Seriously though, while many would have dismissed on her super-hot looks, bio-mom wielded an incredible “DO NOT FUCK WITH ME” aura.

“Fine.” Bio-mom relaxed her stance. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here, ‘harshing your vibe.’ I’ve made reservations for you and your friend at the Hotel Sacher Wien in Vienna in two days time. You’ll have to cut Frankfurt short, but I think you’ll get more out of Vienna than Frankfurt.”

“Um, thank you?” Seriously, what the fuck? Darcy thought bio-mom couldn’t possibly interfere in Darcy’s life. “But the suits have all my travelling red tape arranged. They won’t-”

“Oh them.” Bio-mom made a call on her cell phone. “Hello, Agent Thompson? How are you dear? Oh. So sorry, I’m Darcy Lewis’ mother. The one paying for her European expedition. There’s been a slight change in plans.” She spoke in a silken-honeyed voice. Bio-mom proceeded to explain the changes, was put on hold for a few minutes, and then, “thank you so much for your help, Agent Thompson. And you’ll probably want to surprise your wife with a date night soon. A woman needs to know she’s appreciated. Bye dear.” Bio-mom put her phone away.

“Dude, you cut through red tape like butter.” Consider Darcy impressed. Why couldn’t genetics have given her some of bio-mom’s mojo?

“It’s a gift.” She shrugged. They both looked around the stalls not knowing what else to say.

“Awkward silence much,” Darcy said at last.

“I’m searching for a tactful way of inquiring if you have given any thought to that decision I mentioned in London?”

“No, nope, nada, not even thinking about it. At least trying not to. You said it could wait a while. So I’m here, in Germany trying to stay out of trouble and failing miserably.”

“Oh yes, that man you met. We do have a thing for those ‘bad boys’ don’t we?”

“Please don’t.” The last thing Darcy wanted right now was to bond with bio-mom over their taste in men. And did she subconsciously admit her attraction to Dorian? Not like she would ever act on it; Darcy was not an idiot.

“On that note, and yet another awkward silence, perhaps it would be best if I left now. And you can wait on that answer, just don’t take forever.” With that, Darcy’s bio-mom disappeared into the crowd.

Fuck. Her. Life.

“Who was that?” A now familiar voice asked.

“Is it ‘scare the shit out of Darcy Day’ and no one told me?” Darcy growled.

“If you were told, then it would defeat the purpose. And you’re in a mood.” Daken noted.

“Dude, advice? When you see a pissed off woman, do not tell her she’s moody.”

“Is that what I did? I thought I had remarked that you were in a bad mood.”

“Whatever.” Darcy sighed. “So much for being in the Christmas spirit.

Daken tried to convince himself he didn’t care yet found himself asking “may I ask what caused this foul mood?” What the hell, maybe her rant would be entertaining.

“Bio-mom is stalking me.”

“What?” The way Darcy always referred to her like that made him think of labs and clones and Laura.

“My biological mother shows up out of nowhere and informs me I now have a four night reservation at the Hotel Sacher Wien in Vienna in two days. So much for exploring Frankfurt. Oh, bee tee dubs, I leave Berlin tomorrow for my overnight stay in Frankfurt. Don’t you just love when your parents interfere in your life?”

Considering that when his father had interfered in his life Daken ended up in a shallow grave, he could relate to her sentiment. “Yes, yes I do.” He answered. “So an overnight in Frankfurt then on to Vienna. Odd as I’m supposed to meet someone there in five days.”  
“Wait, what?”

“We are travel buddies, aren’t we? I go where you go. Unless you don’t want me anymore.” Daken tried for petulant, but failed.

“Dude, just don’t. You can not pull off pouty even if you are half-joking. Hey, could you help me pick out some presents for a couple of mad scientists and a norse god?”

“My schedule is clear.” Daken had learned to roll with whatever Darcy said.

“Speaking of meetings, how is your old friend?” Maybe he’d slip up and Darcy could find out something about the mysterious Dorian James.

“Stood me up, some excuse about a sick child.”

Okay, pathological liar right there. Why couldn’t she tell him to get lost? Right, HYDRA. “Well that sucks.”

“Are you mailing the presents or taking them back with you?”

“Why?”

“If you’re mailing them, it opens up your options. If you’re traveling with them, it will limit them.”

“I meant help as in ‘making wry comments’ not using your insidious logic in gift giving. Gifts are supposed to come from the heart.” They continued bantering through the Markt until Darcy was satisfied with her purchases. She had even bought Ian a little something. Wait, that could get awkward. “Word of advice, Dorian? Never make out with your intern when stranded in a another dimension while trying to save this one. Makes for so much awkward.”

“I would imagine so.” He would have to get the whole story from her later, curiosity had gotten the better of him.

They arrived in Frankfurt the next day without incident until they got to their hotel room.

“One bed, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Afraid you won’t be able to control yourself?” Daken drawled.

“Oh ha ha ha.” Seriously, again, Fuck. Her. Life. Was this Bio-mom’s idea of a joke?

“As you didn’t make me put a sheet up between the beds in Berlin, really? With all of your movie references you don’t know ‘It Happened One Night’?” That had come out before Daken was born so he couldn’t blame her youth on not seeing that movie.

“I, you really want to make movie, nevermind. I must be overdue for a freak out or something.” Darcy flopped spreadeagled on the bed. “So who’s in this movie you’re shocked that I haven’t seen?”

“Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. A rom-com classic from back when they were called screwball comedies.”

“Wow, so he did stuff besides ‘Gone with the Wind.’ Cool.” Darcy sat up.

Daken looked like his head was about to explode.

“Hey Dorian, your jaw is ticking.” Darcy smirked. “Any other black and whites I should watch? I’ve seen ‘Casablanca’ and what a rip-off. Totally not romantic. And don’t say I’m too young to get it. I like what I like.”

“Here’s a good one for you, ‘The Philadelphia Story.’ Hepburn, Grant, and Stewart. Actually anything with Hepburn and Grant you’d like.” Daken checked his phone. “It’s nearly suppertime. Did you want to freshen up or just go eat?”

“Go eat. Then pass out until tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”

They ended up in a pub for several hours. Both made wry observations about their fellow patrons. Daken suggested more classic movies for Darcy to watch, although judging by her beer intake and energy level, she would most likely forget them by the morning.

In the end, Darcy needn’t have worried over the shared bed fiasco. Daken stayed up past three communicating with Tyger back in Madripoor. Something about her seemed off. There was something she wasn’t telling him. He’d have to speak to her and press her for more info as soon as he had a moment alone. He turned off his phone and fell asleep in the desk chair. They would be traveling to Vienna tomorrow. Hopefully he could catch a nap in the train this time without any surprises like what happened on the way to Berlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @ http://thatregencygrrrl.tumblr.com/


	10. Putting on the Viennese Ritz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's mother leaves a present in Vienna. Daken and Darcy take in some culture, go shopping, and annoy each other. And someone on Daken's payroll is playing a dangerous version of hooky.

Darcy and Daken arrived in Vienna without incident. From the train station, they hired a taxi to take them to the hotel. Upon arriving at the hotel, Darcy relaxed a little at the unassuming exterior. An older building done in the Neoclassical style prevalent in Europe, it seemed welcoming. Once they got inside to the front desk, she started to freak out. Marble and mahogany and chandeliers, the decadence made Darcy uneasy.

“Totally having an ‘Annie’ moment now.” Darcy muttered.

“A what?”

The concierge greeted them and checked them in; he was super friendly, but judging by the high end decor, that behavior was to be expected. Dorian looked more at home than anywhere else Darcy had seen him. Weird for a “military brat.” They continued their conversation once they got inside their room.

“Dude, have you never seen ‘Annie?’ It’s a 1980’s VHS movie musical masterpiece. Basically like when Annie first gets to Daddy Warbucks’ mansion she doesn’t know whether to start scrubbing the floors or the windows.”

“No. And Daddy Warbucks sounds like a character’s name in a gay porn World War II parody.”

“Way to ruin my childhood.” Darcy looked around their room, although “rooms” would be more appropriate. They were standing in a sitting room in the middle of the suite, a bedroom on either side of the room, both with pocket doors. Darcy backtracked to the long entranceway to poke around the bathroom.

“Dude! There is marble all up in this bathroom! Separate shower and soaking tub!” Darcy’s voice echoed out to the sitting area.

“Darcy, which bedroom would you prefer?” Daken needed her to focus and be quiet so he could check his messages. Tyger had sent more gibberish and Laura was even colder than before.

“Hey, we should totally go jump on the beds!” Darcy suggested as she came back to the sitting area.

Daken scoffed at the suggestion. “Are you five?”

“Five times five. What? You can’t do math?”

“You’re acting strangely.”

“You’ve known me for like, five seconds, and now suddenly you’re an expert on me? Whatever, I’m taking this one.” Darcy stormed into the bedroom on the left, rolling her luggage behind her more forcefully than necessary.

Daken shook his head. As he stared at his phone, he tried to figure out why Laura had grown so distant, no wary. Granted he hadn’t told her why he was really in Europe, but that was no different than the other times he had kept information from her. Could it be Logan? Had he found out Daken lived? Last Christmas, Daken hadn’t masked his scent. He had thought Logan wasn’t at the school then. Had Logan returned at the same time Laura did? Regardless it now seemed that Logan was working at turning Laura against him.

“Fantastic” Daken spat.

“What’s fantastic? Although judging by your tone, I’m guessing not fantastic, number nine.” Darcy had re-entered the sitting room without his noticing. Perhaps he was more upset about Laura than he cared to admit.

“Family squabble,” he answered. Well, it wasn’t a lie.

“And right before Christmas, what are the odds?”

Daken picked up a large, golden envelope. “Any idea what this is for?”

“Dunno. Open it, doesn’t look like it’s laced with explosives.”

“That’s reassuring.” Daken opened the envelope and dumped its contents onto the table. There were tickets for an Evening of Beethoven in two nights’ time, a note for restaurant reservations in a few hours, and a private box at the opera tomorrow night.

“Argh! Damn it mother.” Darcy exclaimed.

“These are quite generous. I wouldn’t be so ungrateful.”

“Knock yourself out, Dorian. Go find some lucky fellow to take to the Opera and whatnot. But we are definitely using the restaurant reservations. I’m fucking starving.”

Hadn’t she told him that her trip ending in Vienna was precisely to take in the culture? Why would she be so foolish to allow a fit of pique over her mother’s interference to ruin her plans? Oh. Pot meet kettle. Yes, he definitely needed to get away from Darcy sooner rather than later. “I thought you were ending your excursion in Vienna precisely to experience its culture?”

“I,” Darcy thought for a moment and then realized she looked like a paranoid idiot. “Look, my bio-mom kind of has a reputation for being an expert in the ‘affairs of the heart’ so to speak. And this is all a little creepy.”

“I had wondered how she could afford you all of this. Matchmaker to the wealthy. No wonder you’re so secretive about her.” He put the tickets back inside the envelope. “Maybe she merely didn’t want to be rude and has included your unplanned travel companion?”

“Yeah, okay, just, argh.” At least Dorian’s assumption got her out of making up her own lie about bio-mom.

“You’ve said that already, Charlie Brown.”

“No, he said ‘good grief.’” Darcy corrected.

“He said both.”

“I, oh, you’re right. Were we about to have a debate over Snoopy cartoons?”

“Charlie Brown cartoons.” Daken countered.

“Peanuts, really.”

“Comic strip.” Daken felt as though he fell down the rabbit hole, but it was an enjoyable reprieve.

“Damn it, mother.” Darcy muttered again.

“Unless she’s an omnipotent matchmaker, this isn’t her fault.”

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“What time were those reservations for?” Daken decided distracting her would be best. He told himself that he hadn’t started to like this woman. It had been a few years since he had a friend, a friend he had inevitably used and abandoned. A friend who had made him watch all the Charlie Brown cartoons he had been deprived of in his childhood. Again, no distractions. Enjoy the Viennese culture. Meet the next contact. Get treatment at the Facility of Miracles. Take over Madripoor. Priorities.

“Seven.” Darcy answered.

“Then you should probably take a shower now so you’re ready in time. This isn’t a jeans and sweatshirt establishment.”

“Um, okay, bossy-pants.” Darcy grabbed what she needed and locked herself in the bathroom. Just when she thought she had Dorian figured out, his whole personality changed. And the closer they got to friendliness, the more rapidly he changed. Either he was playing her, or he had no idea who he was. Or maybe in denial about who he was. Or didn’t want friends. Which, weird, but whatever. “Stop psychoanalyzing the asshole,” she told herself under the spray of the shower. “Once this trip is over, you’re both going to forget about each other and probably never see each other again.”

 

Meanwhile Daken had called Laura; she didn’t answer and he didn’t leave her a message. He then tried Tyger next. He could barely make out her end of the conversation. It sounded like she was in a large train station, which was odd because she didn’t use the subway system on Madripoor. “Curiouser and curiouser” he said after he ended that call. He then made a call to the concierge to have his suit picked up and cleaned in preparation for tomorrow night’s opera event. Business concluded, he decided to listen to Darcy’s iPod while she was in the bathroom. Musical tastes were always good at filing in psychological profiles.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Dinner had been a quiet affair as travel fatigue had set upon Darcy. She had too much down time to think about everything that had happened since November. The only reason she slept that night was due to the bottle of wine she drank after dinner. To be fair she did share, ‘Dorian’ had one glass.

 

Over breakfast in the hotel cafe the next morning, Daken made a surprising announcement. “We’re going shopping today.”

“Um, okay?”

“You need a dress for the opera tonight. Probably a matching clutch and a necklace.” Daken already had a dress shop in mind.

“I was afraid you were going to say that, look, Dorian-”

“Before you start beating your dead horse, your mother is paying. You still have her black card?”

“Oh, right. Of course. So I’m guessing Oscar red carpet worthy is overkill for a private box?”

“And that is why I’m taking you shopping. Clearly you need my fashion expertise.” How anyone could not know how to dress themselves for any occasion in the internet age was beyond Daken. The information was only a few keystrokes or taps away.

“Fashion, yes. Hair, no.” Even though Darcy now thought the mohawk suited him, she couldn’t miss an opportunity to make fun of it.

“Whatever.” Daken had thought she had moved beyond her juvenile mockery of his hair. He used his phone for info on the dress shop. “We’re in luck, the shop opens at ten.”

“Look at you, going all Queer Eye for the Straight girl for me.” Judging by his blank look, Dorian ahdn’t understood her reference. “Okay, it’s an American make-over show that-”

“I know of that show. I hate labels.”

“You’re in a mood today. Is it because I insulted your mohawk? Again? Sorry, I really can’t help myself; sometimes words spew out of my mouth before I can stop them.”

“I’ve noticed.” Silently he wondered if his communications yesterday, or in Laura’s case lack thereof, portended the destruction of his carefully laid plans. “The family squabble, as you called it, is, well, could be considered a clusterfuck. And I don’t want to discuss it further.”

Darcy could spot the lie, but she could also see the truth in his words, even if he didn’t. The most harmful lies are the ones we tell ourselves. Something else had him in this growly mood, but his family feud or whatever affected him more than he wanted to admit.

“I’ll get the bill, you can pay for lunch.” Daken motioned to their waiter.

“Thanks, actually double thanks because I left my purse in the room. I remembered my keycard though.” Darcy held it up.   
  


After Darcy went back to their room for her purse, and “pre-shopping pitstop,” they walked to the dress shop. They arrived shortly after the shop opened, so they were the only customers. Darcy explained what she needed, the sales clerk brought over four dresses for Darcy to try on. Twenty minutes laters, Darcy had purchased a long-sleeved burgundy dress with a scoop neckline and matching clutch. The sales clerk recommended another store for jewelry.

On the way to that shop, Daken picked up Tyger’s scent. Which was odd, she should be in Madripoor, not Vienna. He sent Darcy into the jewelry store alone and feigned having to return missed call. Daken tracked his errant cohort to an alley half a block away. “Who’s minding the store?” he asked as he blocked her from the alley’s entrance.

“I know you’re not infiltrating the trafficking ring, Dorian. And the Alpha team, to answer your question. They’ve successfully seized and turned over a contaminated drug shipment. Back to my point, what are you up to?” Tyger wanted answers, but knew she had to tread carefully.

 

Three years ago, she had received an unexpected phone call from the man who had inspired her career choice of vigilante. Logan had called to warn her about his long lost son. Apparently this son had been trained and groomed by a calculating and murderous criminal Emperor, that was the closest word Logan had to describe this man. Most of Logan’s mistakes could be traced back to this Emperor’s influence. Logan had warned her to be on the lookout for Daken; he had thought his son would try to build his own empire to have the strength to destroy his old master’s.

“What I do on my own is none of your concern, Tyger. If you’ll excuse me, I have shopping to do and you have a job. In Madripoor.” He turned from her and began to walk away.

Tyger knew that exposing Daken’s carefully crafted disguise of Dorian James could result in her untimely death. Nevertheless she decided to take a calculated risk and muttered “don’t walk away from me, Daken.” Her statement had the desired effect. Daken had stopped, but when he turned around, Tyger saw all of Logan’s warnings in the dangerous glint of Daken’s eyes.

He stalked towards her and stopped inches from her face. “What did you call me?” So Logan had gotten to her too. His claws itched beneath his skin, but to unsheath them would cause a bloody mess. He heard her heartbeat speed up, smelled her fear. Good.

“Your name, your real one. I knew it before you washed up on Madripoor.” She knew he could sense her fear, all the more reason to not back down. She figured if she threw down her cards, she might get a glimpse at his hand.

“Before?” Daken backed off, putting a few more inches between them. “How far before?”

“Three years ago. Honestly? I thought you would’ve turned up sooner.”

Three years, back when he found out his whole life had been a lie. Romulus had only used him to get to Logan. Daken was nothing more than a bait dog, but trained to kill and serve. And he had floundered, failed to carve out his own place in the criminal underworld. In his frustration and inability to deal with Romulus’ betrayal, Daken found release in a cocktail of drugs in his own making. “I wasn’t in a very good place then. Do you mind if we wrap this up? I have someplace to be.”

“Don’t want that girl to discover your secrets?”

For some inexplicable reason, that raised his hackles. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“With what?” Tyger caught him off guard. Strange, but useful.

Daken opted for the truth. “Fixing my healing factor. Next time you talk to my daddy dearest, ask him about the time he drowned me in a puddle of chemical run-off from a Weapon X facility that his clone had just decimated.” Daken left; Tyger too stunned to follow him.

 

He hadn’t been this rattled or pissed off in a long time. Not since he had finally decided to take out Romulus himself, only to discover Logan had beaten him to it.

Darcy stood outside the jewelry store looking for him. “Dude, where did you disappear to?”

He was not in the mood for her personality.

“What happened? You’re all scowly and shit.” Even though she knew better than to ask, she couldn’t help herself. Dorian looked seriously pissed off.

“None of your concern. We need to get back to the hotel.” He began walking in that direction.

Darcy struggled to keep up with his pace; her shopping bags slapped against her side. She noticed that the people he passed seemed to reflect his anger and aggression. Weird. Definitely weird. “I never thought bad moods were contagious, but I think you’re infecting Vienna with yours.”

Her comment caused him to slow his pace and take a deep breath. He regained his composure; he hadn’t lost control like that for some years. “Sometimes I have that effect on people.”

“Okay…” Darcy had only meant her comment lightly, but his response had been serious. They walked in silence for a block, until, “oh shit! Lunch!”

“We can eat at the hotel.” Daken really needed to go to ground. Everything spun out of control. Were all his plans about to come crashing down again? Why couldn’t he catch a break?

“I did not come to Vienna to hole up in a hotel room, even if said room is amazeballs.” Darcy protested.

“Last I checked, the restaurants were not in the hotel rooms. Besides, you need to hang up your dress for tonight and I need to see if my suit has been cleaned. What you do after lunch is your prerogative, I don’t care.” Why was she so annoying? And why did it bother him?

“Maybe I should pick up some rando and take them to the opera if you’re going to be stuck in pissy mode.”

Daken thought how easy it would be to kill her. An out of the way place, a pop of his claws to her jugular, he’d have to mind the spray, but still. He felt himself calm down with that dark thought. He hoped she wouldn’t be too grating at the opera that night. Realizing he never answered her suggestion, he said “I’m having an off morning. I promise to be on my best behavior tonight.”

Darcy snorted, “yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Dorian.” While she wondered why he was in such a bad mood, she knew he would never tell her. The wheels in her brain started turning, a new theory came to mind. Maybe he was a freelance assassin. She kept that theory to herself in case it flew a little too close to the truth. She definitely had gotten some murderous vibes off of Dorian. She didn’t want to end up dead.


	11. Coffee Talk without the Daughters or Dogs is a Big Whoop or Wamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They survive the opera and the UST. Darcy gets to take in more culture. And Daken has an unexpected run-in with someone who knows enough to make him want to get stabby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully will upload a new chapter each month now. Thanks for sticking with this. Starting in this chapter there will be breadcrumbs dropped for CA:TWS. 
> 
> Unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are of my own making.

Their evening at the opera had gone much better than their shopping expedition in the morning. They had seen a work by Puccini. To Darcy, Dorian had proven an invaluable companion in explaining the performance without coming off as condescending. He seemed to have a wealth of knowledge and deep love for the art form in general. Again, somewhat odd for someone not raised around such things.

Darcy had looked tantalizing in her burgundy dress. Daken found himself enraptured by her as he leaned in to explain the opera. He managed to keep his baser instincts in check as Darcy had nothing to offer him in the way of helping him overtake Madripoor. Priorities, he would silently remind himself. Amazing how a few hours could change his more murderous thoughts into something else entirely.

By the end of the night, “Dorian” had Darcy hot and bothered. Before leaving the opera house, Darcy sent Jane an admonishing text about failing in her duties as a friend and a human chastity belt. To which Jane replied “Don’t. Have. Sex. With. The. Asshole. There, duty done.” That text came through right as they got back to their hotel room. Deciding avoidance was the best course of action, Darcy declared herself “too pooped to party” and shut herself in her room for the night. “Not helpful, Jane,” she muttered as she threw her phone onto her bed.

Daken found Darcy’s behavior amusing and beneficial. Amusing as her attraction he now knew was based solely on his attributes, plus maybe her pathological attraction to danger, rather than the influence of his pheromones. Beneficial because with Darcy shut up in her room, he could take care of some business without her interference.

First he called to make sure Tyger had returned to Madripoor. She was on an inbound flight and should be there in a few more hours. Next he called Laura, and as he suspected, Logan had indeed bared his soul to her. Daken had no choice to confirm that on the night she destroyed the facility, he was there to do the same and kill everyone in it, including her. Laura beat him to it, and he had incited Logan into killing him. Because what better way to exact his revenge on Logan than to force the old man to kill the son he kept trying to save.

“You are not psychologically sound,” Laura said once Daken finished his tale.

“Definitely not then, you could say I was in the midst of a severe depressive episode.” Addicted to a cocktail of drugs of his own design, losing the only lasting father figure he had known, having an inheritance decimated before his eyes, to be left with only Logan and his destructive incompetence, a “depressive episode” might be putting it lightly.

“But why help me later?”

“To piss off Logan. I may not be explicit in detailing my motivations, but I have never lied to you, Laura. Nor tried to hide the truth from you, for your own protection.” He emphasized the last four words as he could hazard a guess that’s what Logan and his colleagues at that school did to her.

“At least you realize I am capable of handling much more.” Laura paused. “So you will not be back for Christmas?”

“No.” He had been right about the teachers then.

“Whatever you are doing, be careful. You saw my facility. You know about Logan. People in this gene pool are catnip for mad scientists.”

“I know. Good night, Laura.”

“Good afternoon.”

He turned off his phone and went to bed. He needed to sleep. He needed to ignore whatever feelings tried to surface around Laura. They had similar childhood experiences of being molded, similar genetics, but they were not family. Daken hated that word. Laura was an ally, someone to be swayed to his side. A weapon in his arsenal, and didn’t he sound just like Romulus? Fine, she was his sister. Maybe he’d surprise himself and not kill her too.

 

The next day, Darcy decided to go explore on her own. Before she left, Daken made them exchange phone numbers in case she found herself in trouble. As it turned out, Darcy wasn’t the one to worry about.

While looking for a suitable place for lunch, Daken was stopped by a middle-aged German man.

“Excuse me, Mr. James, may I have a moment of your time?”

“You have me at a disadvantage, Herr?” Daken remained calm as his mind raced over the possibilities of this man’s identity. He did not recognize him.

“Perhaps some coffee?” The German indicated Daken should follow him. The man led them to a nondescript and busy cafe. They sat at a table along the back wall. Daken clocked the exit points and assessed that he could easily overpower this man. However as he didn’t know if the gentleman in question had friends around, he thought it best to ride this tete a tete out.

“Your information is picture perfect,” the German began, “in fact I could not have created such a thorough or more impressive identity if I were the director of SHIELD.”

“Ah, is this the ‘tell me what you know before I kill you’ speech?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, and if you’re” Daken began angrily.

The German held up his hand to stop Daken mid-tirade. “Even in a lie there is truth. I have spent my life studying the miracle of the human body.” Daken eased at the man’s use of the word “miracle.” He was from the facility. The man continued, “Its weakness, its untapped potential, and its mutations.” He emphasized the last word.

Daken straightened his posture, “you have my complete and undivided attention, sir.”

“In my younger days, I met a woman who had the extraordinary ability to change her appearance at will. I see from your smile you have encountered her as well.”

“She tried to recruit me to her cause, back in the 70’s.” Daken decided this piece of information was safe enough to drop.

“You seem to have discovered the fountain of youth.” The German paused as they were served their coffees. Once the server had left, he changed course in his interrogation. “Tell me, did you ever happen across a man named, Silas Burr? I ask because he was a friend of my mentor. He came to me some years ago needing my assistance. You would not recognize him today, I don’t think.”

“Are you Kafka then? Do transform us lowly cockroaches for your own amusement?” The gears turned in Daken’s mind. This went beyond Weapon X, this went back to Romulus.

“I help them unlock the miracle of their bodies.”

Every internal warning system Daken had screamed at him to walk away now. But his healing factor was no good; his knuckles bled whenever he unsheathed his claws. Forget about bullet wounds healing in a matter of seconds. And his pheromones, if he couldn’t even keep Tyger in check, how could he manipulate his way to the top of Madripoor?

“Mr. James, you never answered my question about Silas.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters because my mentor had worked on a failed program a few decades ago. There were rumors that a test subject had had children. Silas confirmed that to me when he sought my help. He even claimed he had trained one of them. A person who strangely fits your physical description. Can I assume that you are indeed Weapon X’s son?”

Daken gripped his cup so tightly his knuckles turned white. He leaned in, “you seem to know all about me and yet I don’t have your name.” He stood as if to leave, hoping this display would prompt the German to reveal something about himself. “I don’t like people wasting my time,” he added to force the matter.

“My name is Baron Von Strucker and we both know you need what I offer. Please sit down. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”

Daken paused a moment before sitting. He opted to fill in some of Von Strucker’s missing information, or maybe confirm it. “My father was born James Howlett. For various reasons, all mistakes of his making, I do not share that surname. A word of advice, Herr Von Strucker? If you want my cooperation, never mention my father again.”

“Yes, of course, good.” Von Strucker appeared to be thinking of something else. “You are a good candidate after all. I have no patience for ‘sob stories’ or the like. I will have transportation arranged for you in three days’ time,” he handed Daken a business card. “Come to that address on the morning of the third day. Anya will attend to you and order the car.”

“How long is your treatment program?”

“That depends entirely on you, Mr. James. Now let us enjoy this fine, Viennese coffee, yes?”

They finished their coffees in silence, parting ways when they were done. Von Stucker convinced himself he had secured untold genetic treasures. Daken realized he needed to exercise more caution than he had been. He did not want to repeat his father’s mistakes.

 

Meanwhile Darcy had visited the Haus der Musick and the Mozarthaus Vienna. Granted she should have gone to a Beethoven museum as they were attending an Evening with Beethoven that night, but that’s what tomorrow was for. With two museums under her belt, Darcy finally felt like her trip had turned out the way she had hoped. The proliferation of Christmas decorations helped too. Vienna was hard core into the Christmas spirit; their decorations would put Disney Mainstreet to shame. She felt transported to another world and it was a world whose invasion would be welcome.

When she returned to the hotel, she found Dorian reading that book again in their room. His taste in literature didn’t mesh with the personality he projected. Assholes did not read “Eat, Pray, Love.”

“Okay, this is driving me nuts. Why are you reading that book?” Darcy asked him as she took off her coat and shoes.

“Thought it would help me pick up chicks.” Daken answered before taking a sip of tea.

“Niiiice. Don’t think it’s working though.” Darcy gestured to the room.

“You’re here.”

Darcy sat in the chair beside his. “You’re hilarious.”

“The different representations of romance fascinate me.” Daken turned the page.

“Some representations piss me off. Like viscerally. Obsession and pining and a one hundred year age difference…” Darcy trailed off wondering for the first time if her reaction was genetic. “Anyway, I absolutely loathe a certain trilogy of books that shall not be named.”

“The Voldemort of romantic literature?”

“Exactly, wait, I thought you said you hadn’t read ‘Harry Potter’?”

Daken finished his tea. “You shouldn’t believe a word I say.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Darcy announced she would take a bath. “Beethoven tonight. So, Mr. Gunn, what should I wear?”

Daken looked up from the book, “That sweater dress you wore in Frankfurt, those leggings, and boots.”

“Basic Bitch uniform it is then.”

“Only if you’re wearing a scarf and clutching a pumpkin spice latte.”

“Basically dressy casual for tonight then. What the hell am I going to do with that fancy pants opera dress?”

“Wear it to your arch nemesis’ funeral. I really don’t care.”

“Ass.” Darcy gathered her toiletries and clothes for the evening then locked herself in the bathroom. Just when she started to enjoy their conversation, Dorian had be a dick. “What is that guy’s damage? He needs an army of therapists.” Darcy thought as she got into the hot bath. Good thing tomorrow was her last full day in Vienna. “Shit. I should probably tell Asshole that.” Although he seemed to do fine on his own. Still, she really should mention it before she had to check out of the hotel.

Daken had to remind himself that he was not there to make friends, nor did he need them. He would be going to the Facility of Miracles soon. Finally he would be back to his full powers. Nothing could stand in his way then. And once his powers were fully restored, maybe he would linger in this facility. There was more to it than he originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I referenced the Heat comics arc but have reimagined the drug cocktail to be a combo of Ecstasy, Meth, and Heroin, something that would get him high, make him able to feel, but also calm him down. And I figured that combo would also eat away at his healing factor. You could say I'm simplifying some of Daken's comics' arcs to something that's more relatable. 
> 
> I am also loving the Orphans of X arc in All New Wolverine. That's part of the delay in updates; I've had to pause what I'd written and redo the story outline. So yes, Gabby will eventually be part of this fic too.


	12. The parting of ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacation time comes to an end. Daken and Darcy leave Vienna to return to their separate lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a shorter chapter as there is too much going on in the next chapter. Thanks for all the kudos & comments, much love!
> 
> As always, unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

After the evening’s Beethoven concert, the hard rock of classical music as Darcy had described it, they returned to their hotel room. Daken promptly turned his attention to his phone while Darcy changed into her pajamas in her room. He sent off a message to Tyger giving her directions for the next two months. He would need to find someplace secure to store his phone tomorrow; he couldn’t risk bringing it with him to the facility.

When Darcy came out of her room, she attempted to engage him in the banal game of “Which Beethoven piece best describes me?” She didn’t know how else to say that the Moonlight Sonata must be Dorian’s jam.

Daken had no patience for banalities. “Are you serious?”

“Come on, it’s a legit question to ask after a symphony, concert, whatever. It’s called making conversation.”

“Not an interesting conversation.” He treasonous mind supplied Fur Elise as an answer. He really didn’t want to play Darcy’s game.

“You know I’m going to say it anyway.”

“I’m not stopping you.” He said without glancing up from his phone. “I don’t know why I’m not.”

“Moonlight Sonata.”

He studied her for a moment. Had she said that because it was one of the pieces performed that night, or did she have some magical power that enabled her to see into the heart of a person? Not that he had a heart. “Fur Elise,” he finally replied.

“Dude, really? I put some serious thought into my answer and you give me a music box tune?”

“I stand by my answer.” That piece hadn’t been performed that night and cleary she had never heard it played in its entirety. The unexpected tempest contained within Fur Elise suited Darcy perfectly. “Clearly you’ve never heard it played all the way through.” He returned his attention to his phone. 

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone so you can me make sweet, sweet love to your phone.” Darcy shut herself in her room.

One more day, Daken thought to himself. One more day and then he would be taken to the Facility of Miracles. A strange idea crossed his mind, maybe he should buy some hard liquor for tomorrow night; he felt a strong desire to bare all to Darcy. She could be the last person to see him alive, after all. And it wouldn’t do for her to be sober and remember any of it. If she did, she didn’t seem the type to use that information against him. Besides she was insignificant in the grand scheme of things, who would believe her? Most importantly, they would never see each other again after tomorrow night.

The next day proved uneventful. Daken had scoped out the address Von Strucker had given him and rented a locker at one of the train stations. He stored his phone, charger, and emergency passports. When he returned to the hotel, he found Darcy in the middle of packing. She had created such chaos that she didn’t notice Daken had returned with a bottle of Schnapps.

“I bought dessert for tonight,” Daken said as he placed the bottle on the coffee table.

“What? Oh, I have an early flight, don’t need a hangover.”

“Eleven isn’t that early.”

“It is when you have to be at the airport by eight. Or did you forget?” Darcy had told ‘Dorian’ all of her travel arrangements and he insisted on hiring a car to take her to the airport tomorrow morning. As for him, he would be fine. Turned out another “old friend” lived nearby and he could couch surf there. 

“I thought since it’s our last night together, we should get wasted and play Two Truths and a Lie. It’ll be fun.”

“I didn’t think that was your idea of fun.” Yet another hidden facet of his personality came to light. Darcy seriously could not get a reading on this guy.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” And whatever he told her later that night, she would be too drunk to remember.

“Obviously.” Darcy snorted before she returned her attention to packing. “Where’d my iPod go?” She went into her room in search of it.

Daken retreated to his room to meditate. Hope and apprehension warred within him as the reality of the Facility of Miracles set in. Laura’s words of caution, that their family was like catnip for mad scientists, floated to the forefront of his consciousness. He stilled his mind; there could be no gain without risk, he reminded himself.

Hours later, he and Darcy had nearly emptied the bottle of Schnapps. He had drunk more than her, but she appeared decidedly sloshed but still able to hold a conversation. If she did remember anything he was about to reveal, she would think she heard it wrong.

“Let’s play ‘Two Truths and a Lie.’” Daken suggested.

“Yaaasss. No question off limits. No holds barred. Steel cage death match of truth.”

“Agreed. I’ll start. My name isn’t Dorian James, my father wasn’t in the Navy, and,” he paused for effect, “I have retractable claws in my arms.”

Darcy burst out laughing. “You are seriously fucked up, Dorian. And that’s too easy. Your father was most definitely in the Navy.”

“Your turn.” Daken prompted once her laughter died down.

“Okay… I’m the love child of Tony Stark. I tasered Thor. And I have a poli-sci degree going to waste.”

“Poli-sci degree, you strike me as more of a Lit major.” He knew the Stark comment was a lie; she took too long to say it. 

“Your go.” Darcy gestured with her hand.

“I was raised by a sadistic megalomaniac. I’m actually sixty-seven years old. And… I had a friends with benefits relationship with Johnny Storm.”

“Dude, two TRUTHS and a lie, not two lies and a truth.” She took a sip for the half emptied bottle of schnapps. She would really regret this in a few hours. “Wait, did you get us drunk so I wouldn’t remember any of this?”

“Oh no! You figured out my evil plan!” Daken feigned shock which caused Darcy to have another fit of giggles.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. In that case, I’m not the love child of Tony Stark. My real mother is Aphrodite, although she goes by Venus now. Kind of like Prince going through that symbol phase, only not. And if you weren’t such an asshole, I totally would’ve jumped you already.”

“You’ve officially had too much to drink.” Daken wrestled the bottle away from her.

“No, we were becoming so close too. My only friend, Schnappsy!” 

“Bed time for you.” Daken picked her up and put her on her bed then left the room, shutting the door behind him. It took Darcy a second to process what happened.

“Rude!” She shouted at the door before she grabbed a pillow and passed out.

Even without the help of his pheromones, Daken thought Darcy easy to manipulate this evening. She didn’t want to fly with a hangover in the morning, and yet here she was completely wasted. Unless she too wanted to bare all of her darkest secrets in the same way he did. A sobering thought, one that grated on him. They were not alike; they were not equals. She was an amusing distraction, nothing more. Yet some inexplicable power drew him to her. His jaw ticked. “Tomorrow this will all have been a fever dream,” he silently reassured himself. “She will be forgotten.”

Chaos ensued the next morning with the hangover and the mad dash of ensuring nothing was left behind. Darcy still couldn’t find her iPod.

“It should be here. Right in this pocket.” She said as she rummaged through her oversized purse.

“Maybe you put it in your luggage by mistake? You were drunkenly raving about packing everything in it.”

“You’re too loud.” Darcy realized he was probably right. She’d have to fly without her precious music and hope she really did pack it once she got to London. 

They checked out of the hotel and stood outside the entrance for a moment, neither knowing what to say. The driver of the hired car put Darcy’s luggage in the trunk. Finally, Darcy spoke.

“I have a plane to catch and you probably have a hit to carry out, so thanks for making this trip suck less, and for your help on the train. And for getting me a ride to the airport, which I could’ve done the last thing anyways. So, like thanks and stuff.”

“Most happy to oblige. Take care, Darcy. Try to stay out of trouble.” The driver helped Darcy into the car and they were off. Daken watched until the car turned and disappeared from his sight. His life could now continue forwards.

While Darcy went through airport security, Daken had arrived at the house of Ana. She took his id and personal belongings which were thoroughly investigated by a rather muscular and grumpy looking man she called Claude. Once everything checked out to his satisfaction, He blindfolded Daken and took him out through the back of the house to a waiting SUV. They put him in the back of the SUV, under a false floor board. Daken counted Claude in the backseat, and two other men in the front.

“We are sorry for the discomfort, but this is to maintain the strictest secrecy.” The driver said.

“How reassuring,” Daken thought but said “I understand completely.”

They also informed him that under no circumstances was he to remove his blindfold. They hadn’t tied him up, which provided little comfort from his current position. However their conduct didn’t telegraph that they intended to do him any harm. In all respects it seemed like they were smuggling him out of Vienna, not kidnapping him. Although he would have appreciated Von Strucker advising him of this process rather than it being a surprise. But then it was a way for Von Strucker to demonstrate his dominance in the situation. He was in control, not Daken. Oh would Von Strucker be in for a surprise if his treatment worked.

Several torturous hours later, Darcy landed in London. Jane picked her up from the airport sans Ian, Erik, and Thor. Turned out that Thor had to return to Asgard but would be back soon. Exhausted and still a little hungover, Darcy did her best to not get sick in the car as they drove back to the flat. Once inside, Darcy dumped all of her luggage out and scavenged through through the presents and laundry to not find what she looked for. Dorian had kept saying she put it in her luggage; he was wrong. Or maybe, no. Would he really? 

“That asshole stole my iPod!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things with Daken are about to get more dark in the coming chapters. And Darcy's going to have a job change. So they won't meet up again for a few more chapters. And I would encourage all of you to go to youtube and do a search for Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata & Fur Elise and give them a listen if you're not familiar with those pieces.


	13. You're going to make it after all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken checks into The Facility of Miracles. Darcy gets hounded by her parents about being an adult, retreats back to London, and then goes on a very short job hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some bonus Thor being thoughtful this chapter. Daken internal monologueing about how best to manipulate people. 
> 
> I figured the Mary Tyler Moore theme sets the mood for this chapter.
> 
> Un beat'd, all mistakes are of my own doing.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments. This is a rarepair that I kept searching for fics to read, and as there weren't any... here we are.

Upon arrival at the Facility of Miracles, Daken underwent a series of typical pre-op testing and questionnaires. It was all so banal and common. If it weren’t for the decor, a large, old concrete bunker, he would have thought he was participating in a perfectly legal clinical trial. All of his test results were exemplary, even the four stress tests came back perfect. The only anomaly the scientists could find was that bones in his forearms appeared thicker than normal on the x-rays.

“One can’t be completely perfect,” Daken quipped to the technician who had reviewed the x-rays. Daken had counted eight “White coats” in total, seven men and one woman. Small staff, hidden in large bunker, although that probably helped the facility remain hidden. No one would pay much attention to an abandoned cold war, no older. World War II seemed more appropriate for the structure. He hadn’t seen the outside, but he imagined it was surrounded by forest. The only way such a place could be overlooked by satellite feeds.

After a week of physical tests, the scientists couldn’t believe how perfectly fit he was, they subjected Daken to psychological and intelligence tests. He even had to undergo a few therapy sessions. He had never been so simultaneously amused and annoyed. Except for Darcy, of course. They had returned his clothes to him, but they still held his bag and her iPod hostage. As for the psychological exams, he easily manipulated his way through them. Baseline humans were so easy to bluff, especially ones who thought their degrees made them smarter than the general population. Ah hubris, the undoing of so many powerful people.

Daken understood that these scientists merely wanted reassurances that he wouldn’t go crazy and kill them all. Or that they wouldn’t have to put him down should he not respond well to their treatment. They didn’t say it, but the place smelled of death. Their eyes also reflected ones who saw death too much. The scientists clearly had had some failures. He didn’t want to dwell on that for long; the fear would rise up. He hadn’t felt like that in decades. He couldn’t charm his way of out this place, not yet anyway.

Two weeks after his arrival, Von Strucker finally came to see him. “And then there were nine” he thought. It was hours after the scientists had gone to bed. Von Strucker returned Daken’s travel bag and Darcy’s iPod; it had been fully charged.

“You have interesting musical tastes” Von Strucker commented.

“You’re not here at this hour to discuss my musical tastes.” Daken replied.

“I am not.” Von Strucker indicated Daken should go with him. “I wish to give you a preview of the procedure tomorrow.”

Daken obliged him and followed Von Strucker through the maze of hallways. The ended in a small surgery theater. Various monitors surrounded an exam table in the middle of the room. The table was fitted with restraints. There was an object in the center of the table hidden by a dark cloth. “Love what you’ve done with the place. So homey and inviting.” Daken commented. He examined the monitors and missed the moment when Von Strucker uncovered the mysterious object on the table. Daken sensed the energy shift in the room and turned. There sat in its stand a glowing sceptre.

“This artifact is supposed to be in the Sandbox. This item was used by Loki in the Chitauri invasion of New York. We’ve discovered that it holds the power to unlock the full potential of the mind.” Von Strucker took the sceptre out of its stand and held it worshipfully. “Or to completely obliterate it.”

Daken swallowed down his fear. Von Strucker was insane. And there was no escape. “So that is the surgical instrument you will be using tomorrow?” Right, and how crazy did that make him? For seeking them out and coming here? How would “unlocking the full potential of his mind” fully restore his powers?

“Surgery in a manner of speaking. You will not be cut open.” Von Strucker returned the sceptre to its stand and covered it. “You will be imbued with the sceptre’s power. Given your family history, I am confident you will survive.”

“Such comforting reassurances, Von Strucker.”

“I am a scientist, not a mother.”

“Duly noted.” Now that was interesting, he most likely had mommy issues. Von Strucker would be fun to play with, if this “treatment” worked.

“I do have a question for you. On your intake form, why did you prefer to use John Doe? I assume you are already using an alias.”

“An alias that has its own life and paper trail.” Daken decided to opt for a more playful tone. "Besides, I like how you’ve numbered your John Does. I’m John Doe number twenty-three. I’m not superstitious, but maybe twenty-three will be my lucky number.”

“Let’s get you back to bed, you have a big day ahead of you.”

“Promises, promises.”

Daken tried to fall asleep, but couldn’t. He hated the triteness of it, but he replayed the events of his life while he waited for the dawn. He had learned long ago not to pine for the person he might have been had Logan not abandoned Itsu to her fate. Fate. He agreed with Darcy, that word was awful. He turned on her iPod and selected a playlist titled “Murder by Death.” It seemed fitting.

 

While Daken underwent the pre-procedure testing, Darcy had her own trials to face. Mainly Christmas with her parents who would not stop harping on her about getting a real job and leaving Dr. Foster to her own devices. Darcy was simply wasting her education and refusing to grow up. And when they found out about Bio-mom’s sponsorship of a European vacation for Darcy, they both hit the roof. Well her mom more than dad. Bio-mom had handed a newborn Darcy off to David Lewis and skipped town. Two years later David had married Catherine, and Darcy never knew about Bio-mom until she was twelve and the Glamazon had shown up to give Darcy the puberty talk. Catherine had always been mom and her reaction that day was similar to her reaction to the Bio-mom funded excursion. If that woman had such money to burn, why didn’t she help with Darcy’s college or even offer to pay off her loans?

And apparently there was major Avengers related news while she was cavorting with Dorian. Tony Stark lost his damn mind, got blown up by a terrorist, but then turned out wasn’t really, and then he blew up all of his Iron man, Men suits. Happened in under a week’s time. Erik was definitely crazy, but Darcy could handle that level. Tony Stark was the poster child for self-destructive behavior. Where the hell were the other Avengers during all of this? Did Tony Stark not have any friends?

Darcy survived Christmas to return to London at the same time as Thor, right after New Years’. Much to Darcy’s annoyance, Jane sided with the Lewis’ view.

“As much help as you have been, this isn’t your area of expertise. You could be using your education and skills advocating for policy change or working for-”

“Janey, Janey, Janey, Jane, I can’t go back to boring desk work. I crave action now.”

“Work for an activist organization then. You know how to work the system. And you do not crave action. You were shaking for two days after the Convergence ended.”

“Once you’ve seen what’s really out there, you can’t go back to having your head in the proverbial sand.” Besides Darcy despised her brief time in Cubicle Hell.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not for you going back to Cubicle Hell.”

Thor entered the room “What is this ‘Cubicle Hell’ you are referring to?”

“It’s where college grads’ dreams go to die.” Darcy answered.

“And Darcy isn’t going back there, but she’s wasting her education working for me.”

“See? Jane is trying to get rid of me. I blame myself. I should never have gotten Ian. He actually speaks science.”

“Yes, but you offer other help that is needed. Ensuring schedules are kept, keeping Erik on his medicine, and you are able to keep SHIELD away from Jane’s work.” Thor assured Darcy. “And you have helped me know what is ‘trending’ here on Earth.”

“Totes adorbs when you use air quotes. I think Jane’s trying to say she doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Ugh, why are you millennials so dramatic?” Jane dodged a throw pillow Darcy had aimed at her head. “I can keep you on until you find something in your field. This is my life’s work, not yours. You’ll always be my friend, but go do you. Use your skills for yourself.”

“Yeah, sarcasm, social media, manipulating the system, hacking New Mexico’s DMV, distracting grabby government types so they don’t bogart your research and gadgets- there’s a limited job pool for those skills.”

Thor had been silent as Darcy listed off her “skills,” but now had an idea. “Why don’t you work for Tony Stark? Those skills you listed would be beneficial for his work.”

“The same Tony Stark who just egged on a terrorist and went missing again and then reappeared only to destroy every single one of his Iron Man suits? I can handle Erik’s level of crazy, but Tony Stark is in a whole other universe of his own.” Darcy didn’t want to come out and say Thor was crazy, his mother did just die, but Thor was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

“His business surely needs someone who can do what you have done for Jane.”

“Stark Industries is ridiculously impossible to get a job at unless you graduated from MIT in the top 1%. Which I did not.”

“You’ll have me as a reference, and I wouldn’t put it past Stark to have some sort of algorithm that would pull out resumes with keywords like Dr. Jane Foster. You know he made me an offer right after the Chitauri attack?”

“And you did not accept it?” Thor asked.

“I want my research to mean something, not be sold for profit or be used to build weapons. That’s not why I do what I do. I want to know how the universe works.”

Thor gave Jane such a bright smile Darcy thought she would barf.

“Ugh, when the schmoopy smile appears, time for me to leave. I’ll go check on Erik and Ian.”

Darcy went down the hall to Jane’s home office where Erik was explaining his latest equation to Ian. Thankfully Erik had shorts on. Ian gave Darcy an awkward wave which reminded Darcy why making out with your intern during an apocalypse was always a no good, very bad idea. She tuned out their science talk and got to work on applying for a job at Stark Industries. They had an opening in the Public Relations department. While she could be too blunt, she did know how to spin information and deflect intrusive questions. She attached her resume to the form, made sure to use Jane as a reference, and clicked submit. She knew she didn’t have a chance of getting this job, but what the hell. Stranger things had happened in her twenty-five years of life so far.

One week later and Darcy had an interview via Skype with the manager of the PR department at Stark. Two weeks after that she started her official job as a Social Media Guru, her description not theirs, in Stark Tower. Thankfully one of Darcy’s college friends had an apartment in Bedstuy and an air mattress with Darcy’s name on it. Oh yeah, Darcy was really living the life now. Give her a few more months and she’d be running Stark Industries. Not really, she still wasn’t certifiable. At least she earned a hell of a lot more than she had at all her other jobs. She finally replaced the iPod that asshole Dorian stole. He clearly could afford his own, why did he take hers? And why in all of the gods’ names was she thinking about him? That couldn’t bode well.


	14. it is not dying, it is not dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken undergoes the "Treatment." Darcy starts her new job. Both wonder if they've been turned into Alice, although neither have seen a white rabbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for vague references (read: acid trip/stream of consciousness style) to Daken's dark, troubled, and abusive past. This is the official start of the AU part for the comicsverse- some of the events/backstory in Wolverine Origins and the events of the "Heat" story arc in the Dark Wolverine run. 
> 
> This chapter was a beast to write. Title from The Beatles "Tomorrow Never Knows" which I had on a constant mental loop while I was writing Daken's treatment.
> 
> And Darcy meets some more Avengers.
> 
> As always un beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.

Darcy’s first week of work included a day of New Employee Orientation, waiting a half a day to get a computer system at her desk, reading through the employee handbook, signing NDA’s, spinning around in her chair while Yvette and Paul, her fellow grunt and supervisor, respectively, went to a closed door meeting about Tony Stark’s recent clusterfuck. As she had only started two days before that meeting, they thought it best not to feed her to the wolves yet. They filled her in when they got back.

Yvette definitely didn’t like her; Darcy had a sneaking suspicion Yvette thought she had slept with someone to get this job. Yvette seemed like the typical late thirties, clawed my way into this position, chip on her shoulder type. On the other hand, Paul was totes cool, pushing sixty, social media illiterate, and had the patience of a saint by the way he pointedly ignored Yvette’s rude looks whenever Darcy said something.

On this glorious Thursday, day four of her job, Darcy had to explain to Paul why an official tumblr was a Very Bad Idea. “Dude, Paul, my man, Stark Industries totally does not need a tumblr account. Trust me.”

“My granddaughter is on it all the time.”

“Tumblr is the dark hole of the internet that all the SJW’s and armchair activists inhabit.” Yvette chimed in.

“There’s also fandom stuff and art, and info and support for marginalized groups. Plus K-pop and gifs of movies, and again, it’s also a very fandom-y place. As well as all that bullshit stuff Yvette mentioned. Stark Industries does not need a tumblr.” She kept silent on Tony Stark being a human version of tumblr. “I mean, The Avengers might if that’s what the band is calling itself, since,” Darcy stopped when she realized that no one officially knew Thor was back on Earth.

“Since what?” Yvette asked when Darcy trailed off.

“Since the only letter left on this building is an A.” Great save there Darcy.

“Like asshole, or awesome? How about Awesome Asshole. I’ve been called both.” The social media PR trio turned their heads to the new speaker.

“Mr. Stark, sir, you aren’t expected back for another few weeks. Do you need my chair? I”

“Thanks, Paul. And Don’t sir or Mr. Stark me. I’m not your boss anymore.” He noticed Darcy. “You’re new.”

Yvette smirked as Tony gave Darcy the once over. Darcy noticed the open hostility from Yvette. So she held out her hand, “Darcy Lewis.”

Tony looked at her hand then her face. “Uh-huh. Right. You’re coming with me. R and D.” He turned to leave. Darcy froze in her spot and looked at Paul. “Don’t have all day, Sparky. Paul won’t mind.” Tony walked out of the office; Darcy mouthed “wtf” to Paul and Yvette and caught up with Stark at the elevators.

He didn’t speak to her until after they were on the elevator. “You, Miss Lewis, are famous. You tasered Shakespeare in the Park and fought off ugly Legolas and his minions. Why are you in my PR department and not being coerced into agenting?”

“One, don’t insult me. As if I’d be a Suit. And two, Poli-sci degree and helping Jane keep her research away from said grabby-hand Suits. This place needs my bullshitting expertise if Earth is going to keep being attacked by aliens. Plus SI offers great benefits. I’m a single lady in the big city; I gots to have great health insurance coverage.”

“I like you, Sparky.” They arrived at floor 75. The elevator opened directly into a lab/office/lounge that looked like a psychologist’s office. Floor to ceiling windows afforded a panoramic view of midtown Manhattan. At the far end of the room, a spectacled man with salt and pepper hair worked with a holographic display. Darcy couldn’t tell from this distance what it was, but it looked sciencey.

“Bruce! My Science Bro! I brought a volunteer to try out the Personal Defense System we worked on.”

“You worked on. I merely said that you needed to dial back the voltage.”

“See? You helped. Sparky here is an expert in the efficiency of electrical pulse technology in felling superpowered opponents.”

“I tasered Thor.” Darcy said in response to the incredulous look on middle aged white guy Salt N’ Peppa’s face. Oh god, she would be calling him that forever now. He probably had like 3 PHDs or something. “For realsies, uh, Bruce was it?” Close one.

Bruce blinked at them then slyly said “I am not running a paternity test, no matter how sorely I’m tempted.” Tony snorted then went to a workbench a few feet from Bruce to find the device he wanted Darcy to test.

“As if. Although it would be cool to have my student loans for Culver all paid off.”

“Culver? My old stomping grounds.” Bruce smiled like he had made a private joke. “When did you taser Thor?” He asked.

“The NDA’s I signed said I’m not supposed to tell you that. But he can.” Darcy gestured to Tony, who happily obliged to divulge her secret.

“Puente Antiguo. She also helped in London. Bruce and Thor are best buddies. Jolly Green, not so much.”

“Oh.” Darcy paused, she noticed Bruce tense up, and went for the save. “You’re Erik’s friend he sent that S.O.S. to in that place I’m not supposed to mention. Erik’s doing better now. Taking his meds. Wearing shorts and shirts. Still mismatching his shoes, but I think he’s doing that to be a shit.” Fuck her sideways with a rubber chicken; professor fluffy hair was The Hulk. Well now she knew why Erik’s “colleague” had dealings with SHIELD.

“Sounds like Erik.” Bruce smiled.

Impressed by Darcy’s save, Tony held out a pen sized device for her to take. “You ready to taser some targets, Sparky?”

“Aren’t these illegal in New York?”

“Pens? Illegal? Now you’re talking crazy talk.”

Darcy took the taser pen with some trepidation. She was in a lab with The Hulk about to fire off a Starkified taser. She would never get out of the superpowered rabbit hole, would she? If she thought about it, she did belong in Wonderland after all. Best not to think too much about it.

 

 

While Darcy fell further down the rabbit hole, Daken had crashed through the looking glass. The day Darcy had her interview for the job at SI, the scientists had strapped Daken down to the table in the surgery room. They attached monitors; tried to insert an IV, but it kept falling out. His healing factor wasn’t completely gone. Von Strucker himself performed the honor of the “surgery.” The energy source in the sceptre changed from blue to yellow as its tip came into contact with Daken’s forehead. A searing pain, worse than anything Romulus had had done to him, followed by a blinding light, and then Daken tripped off to the Land of Oz.

No, Wonderland. He’s late, he’s late! Pain, dead, dead, dead. Rotting corpses. People he killed? Hell. Flaming building, mud in his lungs. Black hair, slender waist, eyes like his. Flames, gleaming ball of fire. Supernova smile in a chiseled jaw. “Did you steal from Reed? You can’t use that to kill your” Floating. Feeling everything and nothing at once. Burning away his organs, his skin, his mind. Ecstasy, revelling, loss. Grief. Should’ve been my kill. Truth.

“Ya wouldn’t been able to go through with it. He’d know how to manipulate you. Been doing it yer whole life.”

Fuck. You. Fuck your cheap beer and cheap cigars and cheap version of a father. FUCK. YOU. He killed her. He did it. My right. My right to kill him. Fuck you tiny man. Plaid and grunge and shoulder pads and mullets and mesh shirts and bright colors and cocaine and punk and disco and the targets and the little rebellions. Three decades blur into one. Being a good boy, a good mongrel. Small rebellions. Not returning. Burning flesh. Smell of gasoline. Gashes upon gashes and healing upon healing.

And always, always don’t look, don’t look. Except he did look, and found. A small man, a bastard son, pulled his bastard brother off that woman. And bullets, and red hair distracting him. Telling him he was a prisoner like her. Manipulated by their masters. Fuck her. Fuck you. So they fucked. Home. Punishment, Shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have looked. But short father killed her. No, not right. That was the lie. Truth came later. Like men are supposed to. Women come first.

They taught him that. Perfume and make-up and how to know when a john crosses a line. How to deal with that without killing. How to get anyone into bed. Coyness. And sex is another transaction. Nothing more or less. Not a mystical spiritual union of flesh becoming one. Raw animal fucking. Lost children. So lost, so many. A forest, a camp.

So many other men not like him. Older. Mercenaries. Disgusting. Bloody bodies littering the camp. His laughter. Their laughter. His secret revealed. That’s why. That’s why. Explains so much. Why she wouldn’t stop beating him when he was angry. Why his fear drove her to try to kill him. Why he had to give the baby to, no he killed him. But no, another boy at the creek. “You’re not a demon, she is. I’ll help you protect him.” “But I am, the other demon talks to me. He said I can’t fight my nature. I have to kill my brother.” Boy with short legs runs off, baby sleeping.

Beatings again. Demon, Demon, Demon. Mongrel, Mongrel, Mongrel all the fishes scream at him. Kind smile, papa, turns to horror. Horror turns back into kind smile. Papa. Coldness. “You must learn to bear their insults with calmness. It is weakness to allow them to have power over you.” But it hurts, it hurts. And it’s cold, too cold, and he’s sticky and wet.

And warm. And lulling noise. A soft steady drum, steady rhythm. But he can’t breathe. Can’t draw in air. The beat louder. Rushing wall of sound, blinding light. Screeching metal monster noises. Alarms.

“Tranq NOW!” Blackness. Silence.

 

Discordant Gothic Country music bled his ears as he vomited up silver spoon after silver spoon after silver spoon. He screamed awake. Arms wouldn’t move. Straight jacketed. Lovely.

“ _Hello_?” His voice croaked. “ _Can you release me, please_?” Great, he spoke in Japanese but thought in English. What the fuck did that thing do to him? He took in his surroundings, a padded cell, cot along the wall, plexiglass window with air holes. Door looked well reinforced, but there was a vent in the ceiling. A face at the window, the german, Von Strucker.

“You are awake, good. How do you feel?”

The accented words stretched across the cosmos to his mind. “Like I’ve just taken the worst acid trip of my life.” English, he hoped. Judging by Von Strucker’s amused chuckle, he had spoken in English. small victories.

“My apologies for the restraints. You turned out to be a risk.”

“A risk for what?” Daken’s head pounded, the lighting seemed too bright.

“Your x-rays showed denser material in your arms." Von Strucker paused waiting for Daken to offer up information. He didn't. "You have claws, for lack of a better word.”

“I think I need sleep. The lights are giving me a headache.” Actually the headache had dissipated. He did not trust himself in his current state to not reveal all to Von Strucker.

“Very well. Someone will bring you some food and drink in two hours.” Von Strucker left.

Daken forgot to ask about getting out of the straight jacket. He laid down on the cot and stared at the ceiling. “They certainly have a shitty janitorial staff here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The silver spoon reference is from a song "Boy Decide" by Murder by Death. Go search out everything this band has on YouTube. They are awesome. And yes, song is on the playlist Daken listened to in an earlier chapter.
> 
> And the italics mean Daken is either thinking in or speaking in Japanese.


	15. Further down the rabbit hole and this can't be good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken is adjusting to mental blocks being removed and finding out the truth about this Facility of Miracles. Darcy is still navigating her new job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter jumps between Daken & Darcy POV more than other ones. Their timelines are matching up now and we're nearing the crossover with CA:TWS events. Also raised the rating to Mature as even though I won't be writing explicit smut, there are definitely strong allusions that your imagination can fill in. Warnings for past memories of abuse, again nothing in detail, but strong allusions to it. Also Daken using his pheromones in a sexual way.

For Daken the next two weeks passed in a haze of tasteless nutritional food and lucid nightmares. For the first week after his “treatment” he couldn’t tell if were awake or dreaming. The deluge of repressed memories or maybe (he hoped) warped visions pushed to the forefront of his consciousness, trapped in one long mindfuck of a nightmare. They kept him in the straightjacket for that entire week. He hadn’t been bathed and using his claws to escape would only have ended with a bloody abdomen and arms and the stench of blood to an already putrid array of aromas.

By the end of the second week, he finally had the ability to control his thoughts and appear sane. He reward was the removal of the straightjacket and a shower by himself. He hoped he either got moved to an actual room instead of a cell. And if not, that they would at least power scrub his cell while he showered.

As the hot water cascaded down his back, he remembered the faceless minions Romulus would have train him to resist pain. He never reflected on that much before, better to not think about it at all.The sad truth that even after all these years, he still craved that sadist’s approval. The great irony of Daken’s life was that he knew he was fucked up, but he couldn’t let anyone know his vulnerabilities if he wanted to survive to build his own empire. “The price we pay for power” he thought. He needed to leave this place as soon as possible. He couldn’t afford to delve into his psyche; he would never return from that abyss.

 

While Daken stared down the abyss of his soul, Darcy stared down the targets in Stark’s lab. “Just like shooting womp rats back home.” While she didn’t bullseye all the targets, Darcy did manage to hit each one. Stark pulled up the data on a holographic display mid-air. “That is some next-gen level shit.”

“Don’t mention this to the other minions, Sparky.” Tony saved the data and reset the targets.

“Speaking of the other minions, how likely do you think it is that they’ve sent out a search party? I’ve been gone a while. And there was nothing in the employee handbook for this.” Darcy placed the taserpen on a work table.

“What to do if you’re kidnapped by Tony. First, notify your supervisor. Second, make sure your life insurance is paid up.”

“Bruce, you don’t have to worry about that. And I’m the quippy one, remember? But Sparky’s right, she needs to get back to whatever department she works in.”

Tony led Darcy out of the lab and back down the hall to elevators. He talked non-stop. “I want notes. How’s the grip, any backfire or residual static electricity. Color schemes, weight. Should the voltage be higher, please say yes so I can win that argument with Bruce. And there’s your ride.” Darcy got in the elevator as Stark turned and walked back to his lab.

“Um, thanks?” She hollered. Tony waved at her over his head as the elevator doors slid closed. As the elevator began its descent she thought of how Yvette would have a field day with this. Alone with Tony Stark for an hour. Maybe she should start a secret daughter rumor. Maybe not.

 

Daken stood in the garden, the cherry trees in full bloom. Pink petals rained down in the breeze. Akihira talked sternly to him.

“You are my son and you must behave honorably. What you did to that boy is unacceptable and dishonorable. You cannot allow your anger to control your actions otherwise you are no better than a beast.”

“I am sorry I disappointed you, papa, but he called me”

“Enough, They are only words. He is younger than you so it is your duty to show him how to behave honorably. You must do better, Akihiro. No more senseless fighting.”

Daken woke; he remembered that day. He had been seven and the other boy was five. Daken had scratched his face and bitten him. The boy had followed him, chucked pebbles at his head, called him mongrel. Natsumi’s maid had used that word too, although Natsumi preferred to call him demon. He really did not want to think about her.

Right on cue, Dr. Schlosser came to see him. That woman could smell childhood trauma a mile away. Maybe he would regale her with tales of Dorian’s uncle who molested him. Or the cold and distant aunt who could never replace the idolized version of his dead mother. No, that one was too close to the truth. Best to stick with the pedophile Uncle sob story.

 

Darcy returned to her work node trying to decide what story she should invent. Paul did his best to not look like the overeager puppy he was, and Yvette looked so self-satisfied and amug that Darcy decided not to go with the “secretly Tony Stark’s daughter” and go straight for the truth. Fuck the NDA’s; if Stark could then so could she.

“You know Yvette, your face is going to freeze that way. Sorry about getting kidnapped, Paul, but Mr. Stark apparently hacked SHIELD to read my file and saw where I tasered Thor in Puente Antiguo and insisted I needed to test his electrical personal defense prototype he’s building. But I’m betting R & D doesn’t want anyone to know about that. Am I going to have to sign more NDA’s? I’m going to have carpal tunnel by the end of the year.” Darcy didn’t draw breath through her whole speech. She was very proud of herself. Paul looked like he was going to have a fanboy faint and Yvette looked like a tomato who ate a pound of Sour Warheads.

After logging into her computer, Darcy asked “So what are the good food carts around here? The cafeteria is a little pricey for a girl just starting out in the big city who’s saving up a month’s rent security deposit.” Yvette didn’t say another word to Darcy for the rest of the week. Paul did get her a list of the food carts within a three block radius. As well as act more boss-like for the rest of the week. He even gave her some discernible tasks to finish.

Her first full week of work over, Darcy did what any twenty something in NYC did on Friday night. Skyped her old boss. Darcy didn’t really have another option. Her friend she stayed with bartended on the weekends to make up for her entry level pay 9 to 5 job. A point Jane said wasn’t an excuse to stay in.

“You’re young, single, go out and have fun. I’m sure you could have gone out with some people from work.”

“Jane, Paul is in his sixties, Yvette thinks I’m the company whore, and I have no idea who all works in the PR department outside of generic middle-aged men in suits.” She didn’t want to add that the city made her feel like an insignificant ant person messing up its cool factor by merely existing.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, did you ever get your iPod back?” Jane knew she hadn’t, but she was feeling sleepy and somehow Darcy’s rant might perk her up.

“I don’t think I’ll ever see Tangerine again. I bought a new one. Really Jane, way to be insensitive there. Pretty sure Dorian stole it.”

“What was that guy’s deal? And why did you keep him around? You said it wasn’t for the sex and it’s not like you need to be protected.”

Darcy thought back to the alleged HYDRA agent on the train to Berlin before answering, “What can I say? He was hot and I needed some eye candy to drool over on my travels. Eye candy that didn’t try to sneak a peek in the hostel shower.”

“What!?”

“What what? Oh right, I didn’t tell you about that one. My bad. Situation was handled properly. Speaking of situations, tell Erik his friend Bruce says hi and to put on some pants. I’ve got to go do some more apartment hunting, and cry at the deposit they want.”

“You will give me details about the hostel incident later. Stay safe, Darcy.”

“You too, science bestie.”

Darcy ended up going to bed half an hour later. The apartment hunt was taxing.

 

After his session with Dr. Schlosser, Daken tracked down the computer technician who had been eyeing him throughout the week. He was somewhat attractive, in his early twenties, and definitely into men. Daken found him in a small breakroom; the sheer mundanity of corporate culture in a mad scientist’s secret bunker amused him. Satisfied the room wasn’t under surveillance, Daken struck up a more intimate conversation with “Chad” (he looked like a Chad, Daken couldn’t be bothered to learn his name). The end result being a teasing petting session to convince Ernst, really Chad was better, to let Daken have a peak at his secure computer lab.

After locking them in the lab, Daken may have cheated a little and used his pheromones to help Ernst finish more quickly than he would have wanted. It didn’t matter to Daken; Ernst already bored him. At least he could multi-task, Ernst had logged into the system while Daken fucked him. Exhausted, Ernst collapsed in a heap on the floor, which left Daken free reign to explore the system. His files looked normal; he would need to delete those before he left. There were some strangely titled subfolders, and “well, fuck.” He looked down and saw Ernst had fallen asleep. Good, that meant he missed the part were Daken found out HYDRA bankrolled this Facility of Miracles. That man on the train hadn’t been a weird fluke. He thought back to what Laura had said to him last Christmas; about how it seemed SHIELD was two warring entities. “Double fuck,” he whispered as Ernst snored.

  
  
  
  
  



	16. A place to lay your burdened head down.. or eat pizza and plot world domination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Daken using his pheromones for coercion (sexual and non-sexual) of the Facility guys. 
> 
> Both Darcy and Daken get an upgrade in their living quarters. Darcy is unsure if Tony's adopting her or if she's adopting him. And of course Thor would totally be that muscular friend you can always count on to help you move. Plus Daken finds out he's not the only person/thing to come back from the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always unbeta'd, any mistake are of my own doing. And we're inching closer in the MCU timeline to CA:TWS.

Somehow Stark found out about Darcy’s apartment hunt, maybe she shouldn’t have been using her work computer but data plans were expensive. This resulted in another kidnapping to another lab with way more tools in it. Including some robotic arms on tripods functioning as assistants.

“Wait, are these the guys that were in that article about you after that whole ‘I am Iron Man’ stunt you pulled?”

“Not exactly, these are Dum-E and You 2.0. The originals… Mailbu.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss?” Darcy cringed, she hated that phrase. Besides how do you console a genius billionaire who lost inventions to a terrorist’s blowing up his house?

“Their programs survived, and that’s not why you’re here.” Stark slid some papers down the workbench to her.

“More NDA’s?” She would have carpal tunnel before she turned 35.

“Lease agreement. I heard you’re apartment hunting.” Tony sat at another workbench and started soldering something. Darcy didn’t know gadgets.

“I am not moving into a tower with a big beacon sign for crazies to come attack it.”

“Brooklyn, second floor Brownstone apartment. Privately owned, cash only. I know the owner, real stand-up guy. Although he doesn’t know he’s the owner, probably should have told him that. Anyway, photos, floorplan, lease agreement. Check it out, Sparky.”

The photo were nice, floorplan good. A one bedroom with in unit washer and dryer, bedroom in the back, bathroom with a bathtub, kitchen opened to the living room featuring a breakfast bar  with stools. And she could definitely afford the rent.

“What’s the catch?”

“The owner is a pain in my ass. His apartment is on the first floor. He’s a decent guy, but yeah. A pain in my ass. Maybe that’s my karmic debt. Unfurnished, except for those stools, so you’ll have to hit up Ikea or a flea market. Whatever you kids do nowadays.”

“My stuff’s at my parents. Why are you being-”

Tony set his tools down. “You’re like an auxiliary Avenger. Besides I don’t want Point Break pissed off at me if I didn’t look out for you.”

“You should be more worried about pissing off Jane. Thor’s like a golden retriever. And, thank you? For this.” Darcy signed the lease agreement, what the hell, right?

“Now that’s settled,” Tony picked up the papers and gave Darcy her copies. “You are a very bad minion. You never gave me notes on the portable personal defense system. PPDS, I need to rename it; that acronym sucks.”

“Didn’t know how to-”

“Ever heard of email? I thought your generation came out of the womb attached to the internet.”

“That’s the gen after mine. I still haven’t gotten my implant.”

“Kids these days. And I can’t believe I said that.” Tony handed her the keys to the apartment. “Front door, no buzzer. These two are your apartment. This one is for the storage locker in the basement. You can take possession whenever you want.” Stark escorted her out of his lab. “Oh, and be sure to introduce yourself to Spangles, Sparky.”

“Who?”

Stark gave her an impish grin before turning back into his lab and sealing the door.

“Great, another damaged genius scientist to add to my growing collection,” she muttered as she waited for the elevator. And who or what was ‘Spangles?’

 

Daken had added to his collection of enthralled HYDRA agents. In addition to Ernst and Dr. Schlosser, he now had Tweedle Dum & Tweedle Dummer, the two security force leaders, not to mention the lab techs, and even Von Strucker. A lot could be accomplished in a week when you’re bored in a cell, they have you interact with every scientist in the building, you have no internet, and you have a web of information to untangle. Currently Daken sat with Von Stucker in his private office for their now usual afternoon tete a tete.

“I enjoy our conversations, Dorian. You are a remarkably intelligent man.” Von Strucker had attributed his ease around the other man as having never met a true intellectual equal before. Dorian seemed to naturally engender admiration.

“When you have an extended life span, you have the time to educate yourself.” Daken had worked on Von Strucker for the whole week, mildly dosing the German to put him at ease. Now was the time to up the ante, as it were. “In fact, one of your people provided me with some enlightening information the day, something of an historical nature.”

“Oh? What made this so illuminating?”

“Well I had already gathered that this bunker was built before the Cold War, perhaps even right before World War II.” Daken paused for effect. “I hadn’t realized that HYDRA now has control over it. Quite a feat for an organization that supposedly went defunct before the 50’s.” Daken appeared nonchalant but he waited to see if Von Strucker gave anything away, a tick or a twitch.

A slow smile spread across Von Strucker’s face “I wondered how long until you found out our little secret.” He said, pleased by “Dorian’s” calmness and genius. “As I said, my friend did tell me about you. He has adopted the moniker of Cyber now. He doesn’t like you much, but then he always could hold a grudge.”

“Considering I nearly killed him when I was a teenager, his animosity is understandable. But really, fifty years to carry a grudge is a bit excessive.”

“Remind me, how is your relationship with your father? Or is that subject still off limits?”

A point to Von Strucker, Daken thought. “Still off limits, but at least my murderous rage has quieted to a persistent loathing from afar.” He smiled.

“And what are your plans now that you have discovered our little secret?”

“You can’t be foolish enough to expect an honest answer to that question.”

“In a way, you have answered. You won’t reveal the secret.” Von Strucker looked satisfied.

“Of course not,” Daken scoffed, “why would I want to implicate myself in any criminal activity?” Good, this meant he was free to discover how expansive HYDRA truly was, but he needed to exercise more caution than he had been.

Their tete a tete ended, and rather than escort Daken back to his cell, Von Strucker led him down a different corridor. It resembled a dormitory.

“What’s this?” Daken asked.

“Your new quarters. You have passed all of the procedural tests and I want to make your stay more comfortable.” Von Strucker opened the door to one of the rooms.

Daken surveyed his new quarters. About 15 square meters, a twin bed, college dorm desk and bookshelf, no window, a small ensuite- toilet, sink and shower. His copy of “Eat, Pray, Love” was the only book on the shelf. His go bag lay on the bed, the iPod and a charger rested on the desk. “Thank you for the upgrade. Does this mean I’ll also no longer have the pleasure of Dr. Schlosser’s company?”

“I’m afraid she has been reassigned. But no, you do not need further psychological examination. I am satisfied with your results. Try not to bother my people too much; they have work to do.” Von Strucker left, leaving the door open.

Daken closed the door. He knew what they were doing. A system of punishment and reward to assert their dominance and gain his loyalty. Why else would they have let him wallow in his own stench in a straightjacket far longer than was necessary? And then linger in a cell when they had a room available for him? Amatures. He had fifty years of conditioning from Romulus. Von Strucker’s set up was child’s play compared to that.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Daken began to accept how fucked up his mentor was, how everything that sociopath had done was wrong, no matter how much Daken tried to twist it into ‘only preparing me for the world.’ Romulus only ever wanted a trained attack dog, not an heir. Daken picked the book off the shelf and sat on the bed. Maybe some light reading would pass the time until Ernst became available for some fun.

 

The first weekend in February, Darcy took possession of her new apartment. Air mattress squatting had lost its allure. Thor had shown up to help her move in. Thankfully he left the cape and Mew-Mew in London and the movers Darcy hired (okay, Stark hired) had bought his Donald Blake cover.

Movers gone and furniture more or less in place, Darcy ordered pizza for her and Thor. “I’m still wondering who Spangles is. Like the neighborhood stray cat I’m supposed to leave a can of tuna out for or what?” Darcy realized she probably sounded like a crazy person to Thor. “Stark said to say hi to Spangles when I moved in. I have no idea who or what a Spangles is.”

“Perhaps it is his nickname for your landlord?”

“Weird nickname, reminds me of the national anthem.”

“That is a concept unique to Midgard. While we do have the royal processional in Asgard, we do not have one song dedicated to its identity.”

“Asgard is ahead of its time.” Darcy said, impressed.

“Not in all things, Darcy.” Thor’s demeanor became tinged with sadness. “But there is always hope for change.”

The buzzer rang, ending their conversation. Darcy went downstairs to pay the delivery guy and retrieve the pizzas. “Okay those stairs are going to get annoying.” She said as she re-entered her apartment.

“But think of the savings of not needing a gym membership!”

Darcy set down the boxes to fist bump Thor. Best thing she taught him in her opinion. While they ate, they talked about Jane and Erik and she told him about her job. He was pleased that the “Man of Iron” was not as self-centered as he had originally thought. When Stark had taken the nuke through the wormhole, Thor’s estimation of his character notched upwards. But Tony’s kindness to Darcy had raised Thor’s esteem even further. A thought which he conveyed to Darcy.

“Yeah, maybe he’s hedging his bets I may be an illegitimate child, or you know, not pissing off an actual god.”

Thor gave her a secretive smile.

“What?”

“I had wondered when you would ask for my guidance.”

“Guidance with what?” Were those magic mushrooms on Thor’s pizza?

“I need to confess that I saw you in London speaking with a woman, if I should call her that, that I met several hundred Midgardian years ago.” Thor chose his next words carefully. “She is your birth mother, is she not?”

How the fuck did Thor know that? “How the fuck did you know that? I mean, I haven’t even told Jane. My dad doesn’t even know the truth and he slept with her.”

“And she told you the truth after Malekith attacked.”

“Shitty timing that. Anyway she bankrolled my European vacation.”

“Well you handled such a revelation much better than…” Thor trailed off, again with the sad puppy look. “At least you didn’t stage a coup and attempt to destroy London with a fire breathing, sentient suit of armor.”

No, but she did latch onto a mohawked asshole with a totally lickable bod who stole her motherfucking iPod. “Score one for us Midgardians, am I right?” Darcy finally answered.

“You appeared tired.” Thor realized how sensitive a subject Darcy’s mother was for her. “Tony Stark has offered all of the Avengers lodging. I believe I will surprise him and accept his offer of hospitality. It was good to see you again, Darcy. Thank you for the pizza.” Darcy led him downstairs; he hugged her before he left. She locked the entry door and returned to her apartment locking that door as well.

“Thor hugs are the best hugs ever.” She collapsed in her bed and fell asleep. She had intended on changing and brushing her teeth, but exhaustion took over. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed, in your own bedroom, in your own apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ http://thatregencygrrrl.tumblr.com/


End file.
